QLltL 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 
OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 
PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


JDok  at  a; 
ires  firo\ 
family: 
it  once, 

:er  than^ 
I  fine  of; 
'Aen   the\ 


ced,  thei 

place  it,; 

as   the; 


se  rules; 


lower  to; 
library,; 


\  of  the; 
ihall  call 
pact  any 
jnd  shall; 
oFiu:  meeting. 


>K   ^ 


\ 


JS&MER  COLLEtTION 


M  A  C  AE  I  A. 


BY    AUGUSTA    J.    EVANS, 

AITTHOR  OP     '  BeUI.AH." 


*'We  have  all  to  be  laid  upon  an  altar;  we  have  all,  as  it  were,  to  be  sub- 
jected to  the  action  of  fire." — Melvill. 


:^EW    YORK: 
JOHN    BKADBUEX,   PUBLISHER, 

(late     m.    doolady), 

49   WALKER    STREET. 

18G4. 


Entered  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  18C4,  by 

M  .    D  0  0  L  A  D  Y  , 

In  the  Clerk's  Office   of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  for  the 
Southern  District  of  Xew  York. 


JoHK  J.  Reed.  Printer  and  Stereot3'per, 
\  43  &  45  Centre  Street. 

i 


M  A  C  A  R  I  A . 


CHAPTER    I. 


The  town-clock  was  on  the  last  stroke  of  twelve,  the  solitary 
candle  measured  but  two  inches  from  its  socket,  and  as  the  sum- 
mer wind  rushed  through  the  half-closed  shutters,  the  melted 
tallow  dripped  slowly  into  the  brightly-burnished  brazen  can- 
dlestick. The  flickering  light  fell  upon  grim  battalions  of  figures 
marshalled  on  the  long,  blue-lined  pages  of  a  ledger,  and  flashed 
fitfully  in  the  face  of  the  accountant,  as  he  bent  over  his  work. 
In  these  latter  days  of  physical  degeneration,  such  athletic  frames 
as  his  are  rarely  seen  among  the  youth  of  our  land.  Sixteen 
years  growth  had  given  him  unusual  height  and  remarkable 
breadth  of  chest,  and  it  was  difficult  to  reahze  that  the  stature 
of  manhood  had  been  attained  by  a  mere  boy  in  years.  A  gray 
suit  (evidently  home-made),  of  rather  ^oarse  texture,  bespoke 
poverty  ;  and,  owing  to  the  oppressive  heat  of  the  atmosphere, 
the  coat  was  thrown  partially  off.  He  wore  no  vest,  and  the 
loosely-tied  black  ribbon  suffered  the  snowy  white  collar  to  fall 
away  from  the  throat  and  expose  its  well-turned  ^outline.  The 
head  was  large,  but  faultlessly  proporti^ed,  and  tlife  thick  black 
hai^  cut  short  and  clinging  to  the  temples,  added  to  its  massive- 
ness.  The  lofty  forehead,  white  and  smooth,  the  somewhat 
heavy  brows  matching  the  hue  of  the  iiair,  the  str^ght,  finely- 
formed  nose  with  its  delicate  but  clearly-defined  nostril,  the  full, 
firm  hps  unshaded  by  mustache,  combined  to  rendeMie  face  one 
of  uncommon  beauty.  Yet,  as  he  sat  absorbed  by  his  figures, 
there  was  nothing  prepossessing  or  winning  in  his  appearance, 
for  though  you  could  no^^«>>a^4^^*^^^'-^^^o  of  his  features, 


4  MACAKTA  ;    OE, 

you  involuntarily  shrank  from  the  prematurely  grave,  nay,  aus- 
tere expression  which  seemed  habitual  to  them.  He  looked  just 
what  he  was,  youthful  in  months  and  years,  but  old  in  trials, 
sorrows,  and  labors,  and  to  one  who  analyzed  his  countenance, 
the  conviction  was  inevitable  that  his  will  was  gigantic,  his  ambi- 
tion unbounded,  his  intellect  wonderfully  acute  and  powerful.  It 
is  always  sad  to  remark  in  young  faces  the  absence  of  that  beam- 
ing enthusiasm  which  only  a  joyous  heart  imparts,  and  though  in 
this  instance  there  was  nothing  dark  or  sinister,  you  could  not 
fail  to  be  awed  by  the  cold,  dauntless  resolution  which  said  so 
plainly:  "I  struggle,  and  shall  conquer.  I  shall  mount,  though 
the  world  defy  me."  Although  he  had  labored,  since  dawn, 
there  was  no  drooping  of  the  muscular  frame,  no  symptom  of  fa- 
tigue, save  in  the  absolute  colorlessness  of  his  face.  Firm  as 
some  brazen  monument  on  its  pedestal,  he  sat  and  w^orked  on, 
one  hand  wielding  the  pen,  the  other  holding  down  the  leaves 
which  fluttered,  now  and  then,  as  the  Lrecze  passed  over  them. 

"  Kussell,  do  you  know  it  is  midnight  ?" 

He  frowned,  and  answered  without  looking  up. 

"  Yes." 

"  How  much  longer  will  you  sit  up  ?" 

"Till  I  finish  my  work." 

The  speaker  stood  on  the  threshold,  leaning  against  the  door- 
facing,  and,  after  waiting  a  few  moments,  softly  crossed  the  room 
and  put  her  hand  on  the  back  of  his  chair.  She  was  two  years 
his  junior,  and  though  evidently  the  victim  of  recent  and  severe 
illness,  even  in  her  feebleness  she  was  singularly  hke  him.  Her 
presence  seemed  to  annoy  him,  for  he  turned  round,  and  said  has- 
tily: ''  Electra,  go  to  bed.  I  told  you  good-night  three  hours 
ago." 

She  stood  stUl,  but  silent.  ^[^ 

"  What  do  you  want  ?"  U^ 

"  Nothing." 

He  wrote  on  for  some  ten  minutes  longer,  then  closed  the  led- 
ger and  put  it  aside.  The  candle  had  burned  low  ;  he  took  a 
fresh  one  from  the  drawer  of  the  table,  and,  after  lighting  it, 
drew  a  Latin  dictionary  near  to  him,  opened  a  worn  copy  of 


ALTAKS    OF    SACRIFICE.  5 

Horace,  and  began  to  study.  Quiet  as  his  own  shadow  stood 
the  fragile  girl  behind  his  chair,  but  as  she  watched  him  a  heavy- 
sigh  escaped  her.  Once  more  he  looked  up,  with  a  finger  still 
in  the  dictionary,  and  asked  impatiently  : 

"  Why  on  earth  don't  you  go  to  sleep  ?" 

"I  can't  sleep  ;  I  have  tried  my  best." 

"Are  you  sick  again,  my  poor  little  cousin  ?" 

He  stretched  out  his  arm,  and  drew  her  close  to  him. 

"  Xo  ;  but  I  know  you  are  up,  hard  at  work,  and  it  keeps  me 
awake.     If  you  would  only  let  me  help  you." 

"  But  you  can't  help  me  ;  I  have  told  you  so  time  and  again. 
You  only  interrupt  and  hinder  me." 

She  colored,  and  bit  her  lip  ;  then  answered  sorrowfully  : 

"If  I  thought  I  should  be  weak  and  sickly  all  my  life,  I 
would  rather  die  at  once,  and  burden  you  and  auntie  no  longer." 

"  Electra,  who  told  you  that  you  burdened  me  ?" 

"  Oh,  Russell !  don't  I  know  how  hard  you  have  to  work  ; 
and  how  difficult  it  is  for  you  to  get  even  bread  and  clothes. 
Don't  I  see  how  auntie  labors  day  after  day,  and  month  after 
month  ?  You  are  good  and  kind,  but  does  that  prevent  my 
feeling  the  truth,  that  you  are  working  for  me  too  ?  If  I  could 
only  help  you  in  some  way."  She  knelt  down  by  his  chair  and 
leaned  her  head  on  his  knee,  holding  his  hands  between  both 
hers. 

"  Electra,  you  do  help  me  ;  all  day  long  when  I  am  at  the 
store  your  face  haunts,  strengthens  me  ;  I  feel  that  I  am  striving 
to  give  you  comforts,  and  when  at  night  you  meet  me  at  the  gate, 
I  am  repaid  for  all  I  have  done.  Y'ou  must  put  this  idea  out  of 
your  head,  little  one  ;  it  is  altogether  a  mistake.  Do  you  hear 
what  I  say  ?  Get  up,  and  go  to  sleep  like  a  good  child,  or  you 
will  have  another  wretched  headache  to-moiTow,  and  can't  bring 
me  my  lunch." 

He  lifted  her  from  the  floor,  and  kissed  her  hastily.  She  raised 
her  arms  as  if  to  wind  them  about  his  neck,  but  his  grave  face 
gave  her  no  encouragement,  and  turning  away  she  retired  to  her 
room,  with  hot  tears  rolling  over  her  cheeks.  Russell  had 
scarcely  read  half  a  dozen  lines  after  his  cousm's  departure  when 


6  macakia;  or, 

a  soft  hand  swept  back  the  locks  of  hair  on  his  forehead,  and 
wiped  away  the  heavy  drops  that  moistened  them. 

"  My  son,  you  promised  me  you  would  not  sit  up  late  to- 
night." 

'*  Well,  mother,  I  have  almost  finished.  Remember  the  nights 
are  very  short  now,  and  twelve  o'clock  comes  early." 

"  The  better  reason  that  you  should  not  be  up  so  late.  My 
son,  I  am  afraid  you  will  ruin  your  health  by  this  unremitting  ap- 
plication." 

"  Why — look  at  me.  I  am  as  strong  as  an  athlete  of  old." 
He  shook  his  limbs  and  smiled,  proud  of  his  great  physical 
strength. 

"  True,  Russell,  but,  robust  as  you  are,  you  cannot  stand  such 
toil  without  detriment.     Put  up  your  books." 

"  Not  yet  ;  I  have  more  laid  out,  and  you  know  I  invariably 
finish  all  I  set  apart  to  do.  But,  mother,  your  hand  is  hot  ;  you 
are  not  w^ell."  He  raised  the  thin  hand,  and  pressed  it  to  his 
lips. 

"  A  mere  headache,  nothing  more.  Mr.  Clark  was  here  to- 
day ;  he  is  very  impatient  about  the  rent  ;  I  told  him  we  were 
doing  all  we  could,  and  thought  that  by  September  we  should  be 
able  to  pay  the  whole.  He  spoke  of  going  to  see  you,  which  I 
urged  him  not  to  do,  as  you  were  exerting  yourself  to  the  ut- 
most," She  scanned  his  face  while  she  spoke,  arid  noted  the 
compression  of  his  mouth.  He  knew  she  watched  him,  and  an- 
swered with  a  forced  smile  :  "  Yes,  he  came  to  the  store  this 
morning.  I  told  him  we  had  been  very  unfortunate  this  year  in 
losing  our  only  servant  ;  and  that  sickness  had  forced  us  to  in- 
cur more  expense  than  usual.  However,  I  drew  fifty  dollars, 
and  paid  him  all  I  could.  True,  I  anticipated  my  dues,  but  Mr. 
Watson  gave  me  permission.  So  for  the  present  you  need  not 
w^orry  about  rent." 

"  What  is  the  amount  of  that  grocery  bill  you  would  not  let 
me  see  last  week  ?" 

"  My  dear  mother,  do  not  trouble  yourself  with  these  little 
matters  ;  the  grocery  bill  will  very  soon  be  paid.  I  have  ar- 
ranged with  Mr.  Hill  to  keep  his  books  at  night,  and  therefore, 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  7 

you  may  be  easy.  Trust  all  to  me,  mother  ;  only  take  care  of 
your  dear  self,  and  I  ask  no  more." 

"  Oh,  Russell  !  my  son,  my  son  !" 

She  had  drawn  a  chair  near  him,  and  now  laid  her  head  on  his 
shoulder,  while  tears  dropped  on  his  hand.  He  had  not  seen  her 
so  unnerved  for  years,  and  as  he  looked  down  on  her  grief- 
stained,  yet  resigned  face,  his  countenance  underwent  a  marvellous 
change  ;  and,  folding  his  arms  about  her,  he  kissed  her  pale,  thin 
cheek  repeatedly. 

''  Mother,  it  is  not  like  you  to  repine  in  this  way  ;  you  who 
have  suffered  and  endured  so  much  must  not  despond,  when,  after 
a  long,  starless  night  the  day  begins  to  dawn." 

"  I  fear  '  it  dawns  in  clouds,  and  heralds  only  storms."  For 
myself  I  care  not,  but  for  you,  Russell — my  pride,  my  only  hope, 
my  brave  boy  !  it  is  for  you  that  I  suffer.  I  have  been  thinking 
to-night  that  this  is  a  doomed  place  for  you,  and  that  if  we  could 
only  save  money  enough  to  go  to  California,  you  might  take  the 
position  you  merit  ;  for  there  none  would  know  of  the  blight 
which  fell  upon  you  ;  none  could  look  on  your  brow  and  dream 
it  seemed  sullied.  Here  you  have  such  bitter  prejudice  to  com- 
bat ;  such  gross  injustice  heaped  upon  you." 

He  lifted  his  mother's  head  from  his  bosom,  and  rose,  with  a 
haughty,  defiant  smile  on  his  lip. 

"  Not  so  ;  I  v/ill  stay  here,  and  live  down  their  hate.  Mark 
me,  mother,  I  will  live  it  down,  so  surely  as  I  am  Russell  Aubrey, 

the  despised  son  of  a .     Let  them  taunt  and   sneer  I  let 

them  rake  up  the  smouldering  ashes  of  the  miserable  past,  to 
fling  in  my  face  and  blind  me  ;  let  them,  and  welcome  1  I 
will  gather  up  these  same  ashes,  dry  and  bitter,  and  hide  them 
with  sacred  zeal  in  a  golden  urn  ;  and  I  will  wreathe  it  with 
chaplets  that  never  die.  Aye  I  the  Phoenix  lies  now  in  dust, 
but  one  day  the  name  of  Aubrey  will  rise  in  more  than  pristine 
glory  ;  and  mine  be  the  hand  to  resurrect  its  ancient  splendor. 
'  Mens  cujusque  is  est  quisque  P  Menzikoff,  who  ruled  the 
councils  of  the  Kremlin  in  its  palmiest  days,  once  sold  pies  for  a 
living  in  the  streets  of  Moscow.  ^Mens  cujusque  is  est  quisque  P 
I  will  owe  no  man  thanks  j  none  shall  point  to  me  and  say,  *  He 


8  MACARIA  ;    OR 


was  drowning  in  the  black,  seething  gulf  of  social  prejudice,  and 
I  held  out  a  finger,  and  clinging  to  it  he  lived.'  Not  so  !  dollar 
for  dollar,  service  for  service,  I  will  pay  as  I  rise.  I  scorn  to  ask 
favors,  I  am  glad  none  are  tendered  me.  I  have  a  grim  satisfac- 
tion in  knowing  that  I  owe  no  human  being  a  kinkness,  save  yon, 
my  precious  mother.  Go  to  California  !  not  I  !  not  I.  In  this 
state  will  I  work  and  conquer  ;  here,  right  here,  I  will  plant  my 
feet  upon  the  necks  of  those  that  now  strive  to  grind  me  to  the 
dust.  I  swore  it  over  my  father's  cofiBn  !  I  tell  you,  mother,  I 
will  trample  out  the  stigma,  for,  thank  God  I  '  there  is  no  free- 
trade  measure  which  will  ever  lower  the  price  of  brains.' " 

"  Hush,  Russell,  you  must  subdue  your  fierce  temper  ;  you 
must  I  you  must  I  remember  it  was  this  ungovernable  rage 
which  brought  disgrace  upon  your  young,  innocent  head.  Oh  ! 
it  grieves  me,  my  son,  to  see  how  bitter  you  have  grown  ;  it 
wrings  my  heart  to  hear  you  challenge  fate,  as  you  so  often  do. 
Once  you  were  gentle  and  forgiving  j  now  scorn  and  defiance 
rule  you." 

"  I  am  not  fierce,  I  am  not  in  a  rage.  Lay  your  hand  upon 
my  temples — here  on  my  wrist  ;  count  the  pulse,  slow  and 
steady,  mother,  as  your  own.  I  am  not  vindictive ;  am  no 
Indian  to  bear  about  a  secret  revenge,  ready  to  consummate  it 
at  the  first  propitious  moment.  If  I  should  meet  the  judge  and 
jury  who  doomed  my  father  to  the  gallows,  I  think  I  would 
serve  them  if  they  needed  aid.  But  I  am  proud  ;  I  inherited 
my  nature  ;  I  writhe,  yes,  mother,  writhe  under  the  treatment  I 
constantly  receive.  I  defy  fate  ?  Well,  suppose  I  do  :  she  has 
done  her  worst.  I  have  no  quarrel  with  her  for  the  past ;  but 
I  will  conquer  her  in  the  future.  I  am  not  bitter  ;  would  I  not 
give  my  life  for  you  ?  Are  you  not  dearer  to  me  than  my  own 
soul  ?  Take  back  your  words,  they  hurt  me  ;  don't  tell  me  that 
I  grieve  you,  mother." 

His  voice  faltered  an  instant,  and  he  put  his  arms  tenderly 

round  the  drooping  form.  >^, 

"  We  have  trouble  enough,  my  son,  without  dwelling  upon 

what  is  past  and  irremediable.     So  long  as  you  seem  cheerful,  I 

am  content.     I  know  that  God  will  not  lay  more  on  me  than  1 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  » 

can  bear  ;  '  ns  my  day,  so  shall  my  strength  be.'  Thy  will  be 
done,  oh  !  my  God." 

There  was  a  brief  pause,  and  Russell  Aubrey  passed  his  hand 
over  his  eyes  and  dashed  off  a  tear.  His  mother  watched  him, 
and  said,  cautiously  : 

"  Have  you  noticed  that  my  eyes  are  rapidly  growing 
worse  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mother,  I  have  been  anxious  for  some  weeks." 

"You  know  it  all,  then?" 

*'  Yes,  mother." 

"  I  shall  not  murmur;  I  have  become  resigned  at  last;  though 
for  many  weeks  I  have  wrestled  for  strength,  for  patience.  It 
was  so  exceedingly  bitter  to  know  that  the  time  drew  near  when 
I  should  see  you  no  more  ;  to  feel  that  I  should  stretch  out  my 
hands  to  you,  and  lean  on  you,  and  yet  look  no  longer  on  the 
dear  face  of  my  child,  my  boy,  my  all.  But  my  prayers  were 
heard  ;  the  sting  has  passed  away,  and  I  am  resigned.  I  am 
glad  that  we  have  spoken  of  it  ;  now  my  mind  is  calmer,  and  I 
can  sleep.     Good-night,  my  son." 

She  pressed  the  customary  good-night  kiss  on  his  lips,  and  left 
him.  He  closed  the  dictionary,  leaned  his  elbow  on  the  table, 
and  rested  his  head  on  his  hand.  His  piercing  black  eyes  were 
fixed  gloomily  on  the  floor,  and  now  and  then  his  broad  chest 
heaved  as  dark  and  painful  thoughts  crowded  up. 

Mrs.  Aubrey  was  the  only  daughter  of  wealthy  and  ambitious 
parents,  who  refused  to  sanction  her  marriage  with  the  object  of 
her  choice  ;  and  threatened  to  disinherit  her  if  she  persisted  in 
her  obstinate  course.  Mr.  Aubrey  was  poor,  but  honest,  highly 
cultivated,  and,  in  every  sense  of  that  much-abused  word,  a  gen- 
tleman. His  poverty  was  not  to  be  forgiven,  however,  and  when 
the  daughter  left  her  father's  roof,  and  wedded  the  man  whom  her 
parents  detested,  the  die  was  cast ;  she  was  banished  forever  from 
a  home  of  affluence,  and  found  that  she  had  indeed  forfeited  her 
fortune.  For  this  she  was  prepared,  and  bore  it  bravely;  but  ere 
long  severer  trials  came  upon  her.  Unfortunately,  her  husband's 
temper  was  fierce  and  ungovernable  ;  and  pecuniary  embarrass- 
ments rarely  have  the  effect  of  sweetening  such,     He  removed  to 

1* 


10  MACAEIA  ;    OR, 

an  inland  town,  and  embarked  in  mercantile  pursuits  ;  but  mis- 
fortune followed  him,  and  reverses' came  thick  and  fast.  One 
miserable  day,  when  from  early  morning  every  thing  had  gone 
wrong,  an  importunate  creditor,  of  wealth  and  great  influence  in 
the  community,  chafed  at  Mr.  Aubray's  tardiness  in  repaying 
some  trifling  sum,  proceeded  to  taunt  and  insult  him  most  un- 
wisely. Stung  to  madness,  the  wretched  man  resented  the  in- 
sults ;  a  struggle  ensued,  and  at  its  close  Mr.  Aubrey  stood  over 
the  corpse  of  the  creditor.  There  was  no  mode  of  escape,  and 
the  arm  of  the  law  consigned  him  to  prison.  During  the  tedious 
weeks  that  elapsed  before  the  trial  his  devoted  wife  strove  to 
cheer  and  encourage  him  by  every  efl'ort  which  one  human  being 
can  make  for  another.  Russell  was  about  eleven  years  of  age, 
and,  boy  though  he  was,  realized  most  fully  the  horrors  of  his 
parent's  situation.  The  days  of  his  trial  came  at  last  ;  but  he 
had  surrendered  himself  to  the  demon  Rage,  had  taken  the  life 
of  a  fellow  creature  ;  what  could  legal  skill  accomplish  ? 
The  affair  produced  great  and  continued  excitement ;  the 
murdered  man  had  been  exceedingly  popular,  and  the  sym- 
pathies of  \he  citizens  were  enlisted  in  behalf  of  his  family. 
Although  clearly  a  case  of  manslaughter  only,  the  violent 
prejudices  of  the  community  and  the  exertions  of  influen- 
tial friends  so  biassed  the  jury  that,  to  the  astonishment  of  the 
counsel  on  both  sides,  the  cry  of  "blood  for  blood,"  went  out 
from  that  crowded  court-room,  and  in  defiance  of  precedent,  Mr. 
Aubrey  was  unjustly  sentenced  to  be  hung.  When  the  verdict 
was  known,  Russell  placed  his  insensible  mother  on  a  couch  from 
which  it  seemed  probable  she  would  never  rise.  But  there  is  an 
astonishing  amount  of  endurance  in  even  a  feeble  woman's  frame, 
and  after  a  time  she  went  alx)ut  her  ho&se  once  more,  doing  her 
duty  to  her  child  and  leai'uing  to  "  suffer  and  grow  strong." 
Fate  had  ordained,  however,  that  Russell's,  father  should  not  die 
upon  the  ga-llows  ;  and  soon  after  the  verdict  was  pronounced, 
when  all  Mrs.  Aubrey's  efforts  to  procure  a  pardon  had  proved 
unavailing,  the  proud  and  desperate  man,  in  the  solitude  of  his 
cell,  with  no  eye  but  Jehovah's  to  witness  the  awful  deed,  the 
consummation  of  his  woes,  took  his  own  life — and  with  the  aid 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  11 

of  a  lancet  launched  his  guilty  soul  into  eternity.  On  the  floor 
of  the  cell  was  found  a  blurred  sheet,  sprinkled  with  blood, 
directed  to  his  wife,  bidding  her  farewell,  and  committing  her  and 
her  boy  to  the  care  of  an  outraged  and  insulted  God.  Such  was 
the  legacy  of  shame  which  Russell  inherited  ;  was  it  any  marvel 
that  at  sixteen  that  boy  had  lived  ages  of  sorrow  ?  Mrs.  Aub- 
rey found  her  husband's  financial  ajffairs  so  involved  that  she 
relinquished  the  hope  of  retaining  the  little  she  possessed,  and  re- 
tired to  a  small  cottage  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  where  she 
endeavored  to  support  herself  and  the  two  dependent  on  her  by 
taking  in  sewing.  Electra  Grey  was  the  orphan  child  of  Mr. 
Aubrey's  only  sister,  who  dying  in  poverty  bequeathed  the  infant 
to  her  brother.  He  had  loved  her  as  well  as  his  own  Russell, 
and  his  wife,  who  cradled  her  in  her  arms  and  taught  her  to 
walk  by  clinging  to  her  finger,  would  almost  as  soon  have  parted 
with  her  son  as  tlie  little  Electra.  For  five  years  the  widow 
had  toiled  by  midnight  lamps  to  feed  these  two  ;  now  oppressed 
nature  rebelled,  the  long  over-taxed  eyes  refused  to  perform  their 
office  ;  filmy  cataracts  stole  over  them,  veiling  their  sadness  and 
then-  unshed  tears — blindness  was  creeping  on.  At  his  father's 
death  Russell  w^as  forced  to  quit  school,  and  with  some  difficulty 
he  succeeded  in  obtaining  a  situation  in  a  large  dry-goods  store, 
where  his  labors  were  onerous  in  the  extreme,  and  his  wages  a 
mere  pittance.  To  domineer  over  those  whom  adverse  fortune 
places  under  their  control  is  by  no  means  uncommon  among  igno- 
rant and  selfish  men,  whose  industry  has  acquired  independence  ; 
and  though  Russell's  employer,  Mr.  Watson,  shrank  from  com- 
mitting a  gross  wrong,  and  prided  himself  on  his  scrupulous 
honesty,  still  his  narrow  mind  and  penurious  habits  strangled 
every  generous  impulse,  and,  without  being  absolutely  cruel  or 
unprincipled,  he  contrived  to  gall  the  boy's  proud  spirit  and 
render  his  position  one  of  almost  purgatorial  severity.  The  ma- 
chinery of  human  will  is  occult  and  complicated  ;  very  few 
rigidly  analyze  their  actions  and  discern  the  ftiotives  that  impel 
them,  and  if  any  one  had  told  Jacob  Watsoai  that  envy  was  the 
secret  spring  which  prompted  his  unfriendly  course  toward  his 
young  clerk  he  would  probably  have  indignantly  denied  the  accu- 


12  MACARIA  ;    OR, 

sation.  The  blessing  of  au  education  had  been  withheld  from 
him  ;  he  grew  up  illiterate  and  devoid  of  refinement  ;  and  deter- 
mined that  his  children  should  enjoy  every  advantage  which 
money  could  command.  His  eldest  son  was  just  Russell's  age, 
had  been  sent  to  various  schools  from  his  infancy,  was  indolent, 
self-indulgent,  and  thoroughly  dissipated.  Having  been  a  second 
time  expelled  from  school  for  most  disgraceful  misdemeanors,  he 
lounged  away  his  time  about  the  store,  or  passed  it  still  more 
disreputably  with  reckless  companions. 

The  daily  contrast  presented  by  Cecil  and  Russell  irritated 
the  father,  and  hence  his  settled  dislike  of  the  latter.  The  faith- 
ful discharge  of  duty  on  the  part  of  the  clerk  afforded  no  plau- 
sible occasion  for  invective  ;  he  felt  that  he  was  nan-owly 
watched,  and  resolved  to  give  no  ground  for  fault-finding  ;  yet 
during  the  long  summer  days,  when  the  intense  heat  prevented 
customers  from  thronging  the  store,  and  there  was  nothing  to  be 
done,  when  Russell  knowing  that  the  books  were  written  up 
and  the  counters  free  from  goods,  took  his  Latin  grammar  and 
improved  every  leisure  half-hour,  he  was  not  ignorant  of  the  fact 
that  an  angry  scowl  darkened  his  employer's  visage,  and  under- 
stood why  he  was  constantly  interrupted  to  perform  most  un- 
necessary labors.  But  in  the  same  proportion  that  obstacles 
thickened,  his  energy  and  resolution  doubled  ;  and  herein  one 
human  soul  differs  from  another  in  strength  of  will,  which  fur- 
nishes powers  of  endurance.  What  the  day  denied  him  he 
reclaimed  from  night,  and  succeeded  in  acquiring  a  tolerable 
knowledge  of  Greek,  besides  reading  several  Latin  books. 
Finding  that  his  small  salary  was  inadequate,  now  that  his 
mother's  failing  sight  prevented  her  from  accomplishing  the 
usual  amount  of  sewing,  he  solicited  and  obtained  permission  to 
keep  an  additional  set  of  books  for  the  grocer  who  furnished  his 
family  with  provisions,  though  by  this  arrangement  few  hours 
remained  for  necessary  sleep.  The  protracted  illness  and  death 
of  an  aged  and  faithful  servant,  together  with  Electra's  tedious 
sickness,  bringing  the  extra  expense  of  medical  aid,  had  pre- 
vented the  prompt  payment  of  rent  due  for  the  three-roomed 
cottage,  and  Russell  was  compelled  to  ask  for  a  portion  of  his 


ALTAKS    OF    SACRIFICE.  13 

salary  in  advance.  His  mother  little  dreamed  of  the  stiugrgle 
which  took  place  in  his  heart  ere  he  could  force  himself  to  make 
the  request,  and  he  carefully  concealed  from  her  the  fact  that  at 
the  moment  of'  receiving  the  money,  he  laid  in  Mr.  Watson's 
hand  by  way  of  pawn  the  only  article  of  any  value  which  he 
possessed,  the  watch  his  father  had  always  worn,  and  which  the 
coroner  took  from  the  vest  pocket  of  the  dead,  dabbled  with 
blood.  The  gold  chain  had  been  sold  long  before,  and  the  son 
wore  it  attached  to  a  simple  black  ribbon.  His  employer  re- 
ceived the  watch,  locked  it  in  the  iron  safe,  and  Russell  fastened 
a  small  weight  to  the  ribbon,  and  kept  it  around  his  neck  that  his 
mother  might  not  suspect  the  truth.  It  chanced  that  Cecil 
stood  near  at  the  time  ;  he  saw  the  watch  deposited  in  the  safe, 
whistled  a  tune,  fingered  his  own  gold  repeater,  and  walked 
away.  Such  was  Russell  Aubrey's  history  ;  such  his  situation 
at  the  beginning  of  his  seventeenth  year.  Have  I  a  reader  whose 
fond  father  lavishes  on  him  princely  advantages,  whose  shelves 
are  filled  with  valuable,  but  unread  volumes,  whose  pockets  are 
supplied  with  more  than  necessary  money,  and  who  yet  saunters 
through  the  precious  season  of  youth  failing  utterly  to  appre- 
ciate his  privileges  ?  Let  him  look  back  into  that  little  room 
where  Russell  sits,  pale,  wearied,  but  unbending,  pondering  his 
dark  future,  planning  to  protect  his  mother  from  want,  and 
racking  his  brain  for  some  feasible  method  of  procuring  such 
books  as  he  absolutely  needs  ;  books  which  his  eager,  hungry 
eyes  hnger  on  as  he  passes  the  book-store  every  morning  going 
to  his  work.  Oh,  young  reader  I  if  such  I  have,  look  at  him 
struggling  with  adversity  as  a  strong  swimmer  with  the  murder- 
ous waves  that  lash  him,  and  contrasting  your  own  fortunate 
position  shake  off  the  inertia  that  clings  to  you  tenaciously  as 
Sinbad's  burden,  and  go  to  work  earnestly  and  bravely,  thank- 
ing God  for  the  aid  he  has  given  you. 

"  Disappointment's  dry  and  bitter  root, 
Envy's  harsh  berries  and  the  choking  pool, 
Of  the  world's  scorn,  are  the  right  mcther-milk 
To  the  tough  hearts  that  pioneer  their  kind." 


14:.  MAC  ARIA  ;    OR, 


CHAPTER   II. 

"  Irexe,  your  father  will  be  displeased  if  he  sees  you  in  that 
plight." 

"  Pray,  what  is  wrong  about  me  now  ?  You  seem  to  glory 
in  finding  fault .  What  is  the  matter  with  my  '  plight'  as  you 
call  it  ?" 

"  You  know  very  well  your  father  can't  bear  to  see  you  carry- 
ing your  own  satchel  and  basket  to  school.  He  ordered  ^Iiirtlia 
to  take  them  every  morning  and  evening,  but  she  says  you  will 
not  let  her  carry  them.     It  is  just  sheer  obstinacy  in  you." 

"  There  it  is  again  !  because  I  don't  choose  to  be  petted  like  a 
baby,  or  made  a  wax  doll  of,  it  is  set  down  to  obstinacy,  as  if  I 
had  the  temper  of  a  heathen.  See  here,  aunt  Margaret,  I  am., 
tired  of  having  Martha  tramping  eternally  at  my  heels  as  though 
I  were  a  two  year  old  child.  There  is  no  reason  in  her  walking 
after  me  when  I  am  strong  enough  to  carry  my  own  books,  and 
I  don't  intend  she  shall  do  it  any  longer." 

"But,  Irene,  your  father  is  too  proud  to  have  you  trudging 
alonsi:  the  road-,  like  anv  other  besi'^ar,  with  vour  l)ooks  in  one 
arm  and  a  basket  swinging  in  the  other.  Just  suppose  the  Car- 
ters or  the  Harrisses  should  meet  you  ?  Dear  me  !  they  would 
hardly  believe  you  belonged  to  a  wealthy,  aristocratic  family  like 
the  Huntiugdons.  Child,  I  never  carried  my  own  dinner  to 
school  in  my  life." 

"  And  I  expect  that  is  exactly  the  reason  why  you  are  forever 
complaining,  and  scarcely  see  one  well  day  in  the  three  hundred 
and  sixty-five.  As  to  what  people  think,  I  don't  care  a  cent  ; 
as  to  whether  my  ancestors  did  or  did  not  carry  their  lunch  in 
their  own  aristocratic  hands  is  a  matter  of  no  consequence  what- 
ever. I  dispise  all  this  ridiculous  nonsense  about  aristocracy  of 
family,  and  I  mean  to  do  as  I  please.  I  thought  that  really 
well-bred  persons  of  high  standing  and  birth  could  aff"ord  to  ])e 
silent  on  the  subject,  and  that  only  parvenus,  coarse,  vulgar 
people  with  a  little  money,  put  on  those  kind  of  airs,  and  pre- 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  15 

tended  to  be  shocked  at  what  they  had  been  accustomed  to  in 
earlv  life." 

"  I  do  not  see  where  you  get  such  plebeian  ideas  ;  you  posi- 
tively make  me  ashamed  of  you  sometimes,  when  fashionable, 
genteel  persons  come  to  the  house.  There  is  such  a  want  of  re- 
finement in  your  notions.     You  are  anything  but  a  Huntingdon." 

"  I  am  what  God  made  me,  aunt  Margaret.  If  the  Hunting- 
dons  stand  high,  it  is  because  they  won  distinction  by  their  own 
efforts  ;  I  don't  want  the  stepping-stones  of  my  dead  ancestry  ; 
people  must  judge  me  for  myself,  not  from  what  my  grandmother 
was." 

Irene  Huntingdon  stood  on  the  marble  steps  of  her  palatial 
home,  and  talked  with  the  maiden  aunt  who  governed  her  father's 
household.  The  girl  was  about  fourteen,  tall  for  her  age,  straight, 
finely-formed,  slender.  The  broad  straw  hat  shaded,  but  by  no 
means  concealed  her  features,  and  as  she  looked  up  at  her  aunt 
the  sunshine  fell  upon  a  face  of  extraordinary  beauty,  such  as  is 
rarely  seen,  save  in  the  idealized  heads  of  the  old  masters.  Her 
hair  was  of  an  uncommon  shade,  neither  auburn  nor  brown,  but 
between  gold  and  bronze";  and  as  the  sun  shone  on  it  the  rippling 
waves  flashed,  until  their  burnished  glory  seemed  a  very  aureola. 
It  was  thick  and  curling  ;  she  wore  it  parted  on  her  pale,  polish- 
el  forehead,  and  it  hung  around  her  like  a  gilded  veil.  The  face 
was  an  oval ;  you  might  measure  it  by  all  the  rules  of  art  and 
no  imperfection  could  be  found,  unless  the  height  of  the  brow 
were  considered  out  of  proportion.  The  nose  was  delicate  and 
clearly  cut,  and  in  outline  resembled  that  in  the  antique  medals 
of  Olympias,  the  wife  of  Philip  of  Macedonia.  The  upper  lip 
was  short,  and  curved  like  a  bow  ;  the  lower,  thin,  firm,  and 
straight.  Her  eyes  were  strangely,  marvellously  beautiful  ;  they 
were  larger  than  usual,  and  of  that  rare  shade  of  purplish  blue 
which  borders  the  white  velvet  petals  of  a  clematis.  When  the 
eyes  were  uplifted,  as  on  this  occasion,  long,  curling  lashes  of  the 
bronze  hue  of  her  hair  rested  against  her  brow.  Save  the  scar- 
let lines  which  marked  her  lips,  her  face  was  of  that  clear,  color- 
lessness  which  can  be  likened  only  to  the  purest  ivory.  Though 
there  was  an  utter  absence  of  the  rosy  hue  of  health,  the  trans- 


16  ■  MACAEIA  ;    OE, 

parency  of  the  complexion  seemed  characteristic  of  her  type,  and 
precluded  all  thought  of  disease.  People  are  powerfully  at- 
tracted by  beauty,  either  of  form,  color,  or  a  combination  of 
both  ;  and  it  frequently  happens  that  something  of  pain  mingles 
with  the  sensation  of  pleasure  thus  excited.  Now,  whether  it  be 
that  this  arises  from  a  vague  apprehension  engendered  by  the 
evanescent  nature  of  all  sublunary  things,  or  from  the  inability  of 
earthly  types  to  satisfy  the  divine  ideal  which  the  soul  enshrines, 
I  shall  not  here  attempt  to  decide ;  but  those  who  examined 
Irene's  countenance  were  fully  aware  of  this  complex  emotion  ; 
and  strangers  who  passed  her  in  the  street  felt  mtuitively  that  a 
noble,  unsullied  soul  looked  out  at  them  from  the  deep,  calm, 
thoughtful  eyes.  Miss  ]\[argaret  muttered  something  inaudible 
in  reply  to  her  last  remark,  and  Irene  walked  on  to  school.  Her 
father's  residence  was  about  a  mile  from  the  town,  but  the 
winding  road  rendered  the  walk  somewhat  longer  ;  and  on  one 
side  of  this  road  stood  the  small  house  occupied  by  Mrs.  Aubrey. 
As  Irene  approached  it  she  saw  Electra  Grey  coming  from  the 
opposite  direction,  and  at  the  cottage  gate  they  met.  Both 
paused  ;  Irene  held  out  her  hand  cordially — 

"  Good  morning.  I  have  not  seen  you  for  a  fortnight.  I 
thought  you  were  coming  to  school  again  as  soon  as  you  were 
strong  enough  ?" 

"  No  ;  I  am  not  going  back  to  school." 
"  Why  ?" 

"  Because  auntie  can't  afford  to  send  me  any  longer.  You 
know  her  eyes  are  growing  worse  every  day,  and  she  is  not  able 
to  take  in  sewing  as  she  used  to  do.  I  am  sorry  ;  but  it  can't 
be  helped." 

"  How  do  you  know  it  can't  be  helped  ?  Kussell  told  me 
he  thought  she  had  cataracts  on  her  eyes,  and  they  can  be 
removed." 

"  Perhaps  so,  if  we  had  the  means  of  consulting  that  cele- 
brated physician  in  Xew  Orleans.  Money  removes  a  great  many 
things,  Irie,  but  unfortunately  we  have  n't  it." 

"  The  trip  would  not  cost  much  ;  suppose  you  speak  to  Rus- 
sell about  it." 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  17 

"Much  or  little,  it  will  require  more  than  we  can  possibly 
spare.  Everything  is  so  high  we  can  barely  live  as  it  is.  But  I 
must  go  in,  my  aunt  is  waiting  for  me." 

"  Where  have  you  been  so  early,  Electra  ?  I  hope  you  will 
not  think  me  impertinent  in  asking  such  a  question." 

"I  carried  this  waiter  full  of  bouquets  to  Mr.  Carter's. 
There  is  to  be  a  grand  dinner-party  there  to-day,  and  auntie 
promised  as  many  flowers  as  she  could  furnish.  However,  bou- 
quets pay  poorly.  Irie,  wait  one  minute  ;  I  have  a  little  border 
of  mignonette  all  my  own,  and  I  should  like  to  give  you  a 
spray." 

She  hurried  into  the  garden,  and  returning  with  a  few  delicate 
sprigs,  fastened  one  in  her  friend's  belt  and  the  remainder  in  the 
ribbon  on  her  hat. 

"  Thank  you,  Electra  ;  who  told  you  that  I  love  mignonette 
so  well  ?  It  will  not  do  for  you  to  stay  away  from  school  ;  I 
miss  you  in  my  class,  and  besides,  you  are  losing  too  much  time. 
Something  should  be  done,  Electra.     Good-by." 

They  shook  hands,  and  Irene  walked  on.  "  Something  should 
be  done,"  she  repeated,  looking  down  fixedly  yet  vacantly  at  the 
sandy  road.  Soon  the  brick  walls  of  the  academy  rose  grim  and 
uninviting,  and  taking  her  place  at  the  desk  she  applied  herself 
to  her  books.  TVhen  school  was  dismissed  in  the  afternoon,  in- 
stead of  returning  home  as  usual  she  walked  down  the  principal 
street,  entered  Mr.  Watson's  store,  and  put  her  books  on  the 
counter.  It  happened  that  the  proprietor  stood  near  the  front 
door,  and  he  came  forward  instantly  to  wait  upon  her. 

"  Ah,  Miss  Irene  !  happy  to  see  you.  What  shall  I  have  the 
pleasure  of  showing  you  ?" 

"  Russell  Aubrey,  if  you  please." 

The  merchant  stared,  and  she  added  : 

"  I  want  some  kid  gauntlets,  but  Russell  can  get  them 
for  me." 

The  young  clerk  stood  at  the  desk  in  the  rear  of  the  store, 
with  his  back  toward  the  counter  ;  and  Mr.  Watson  called 
out — 

"  Here,  Aubrey,  some  kid  gauntlets  for  this  young  lady." 


18  MACARIA  ;    OE, 

He  laid  down  bis  pen,  and  taking  a  box  of  gloves  from  the 
shelves  placed  it  on  the  counter  before  her.  He  had  not  noticed 
her  particularly,  and  when  she  pushed  back  her  hat  and  looked 
up  at  him  he  started  slightly. 

"  Good-evening,  Miss  Huntingdon,  What  number  do  you 
wish  ?" 

Perhaps  it  was  from  the  heat  of  the  day,  or  from  stooping 
over  his  desk,  or  perhaps  it  was  from  something  else,  but  his 
cheek  was  flushed,  and  gradually  it  grew  pale  again. 

"  Russell,  I  want  to  speak  to  you  about  Electra.  She  ought 
to  be  at  school,  you  know." 

"  Yes." 

"  But  she  says  your  mother  can't  afford  the  expense." 

"Just  now  she  can  not  ;  next  year  things  will  be  better." 

"  What  is  the  tuition  for  her  ?" 

"  Five  dollars  a  month." 

"  Is  that  all  ?" 

He  selected  a  delicate  fawn-colored  pair  of  gloves  and  laid 
them  before  her,  while  a  faint  smile  passed  over  his  face. 

"  Russell,  has  anything  happened  ?" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  What  is  troubling  you  so  ?" 

"  Nothing  more  than  usual.     Do  those  gloves  suit  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  they  will  lit  me,  I  believe."  She  looked  at  him  very 
intently. 

He  met  her  gaze  steadily,  and  for  an  instant  his  face  bright- 
ened ;  then  she  said,  abruptly  : 

*'  Your  mother's  eyes  are  worse  ?" 

"  Yes,  much  worse." 

''  Have  you  consulted  Dr.  Arnold  about  them  ?" 

"  He  says  he  can  do  nothing  for  her." 

"  How  much  would  it  cost  to  take  her  to  New  Orleans  and 
have  that  celebrated  oculist  examine  them  ?" 

"  More  than  we  can  afford  just  now  ;  at  least  two  hundred 
dollars." 

"  Oh,  Russell  1  that  is  not  much.  Would  not  Mr.  Watson  lend 
you  that  Uttle  ?" 


ALTARS    OF    SACEIFICE.  19 

"  I  shall  not  ask  him." 

"  Not  even  to  restore  your  mother's  sight  ?" 

"  Not  to  buy  my  own  life.  Besides,  the  experiment  is  a  doubt- 
ful one." 

"  Still  it  is  worth  making." 

"  Yes,  under  different  circumstances  it  certainly  would  be." 

"  Have  you  talked  to  Mr.  Campbell  about  it  ?" 

"  No,  because  it  is  useless  to  discuss  the  matter." 

"  It  would  be  dangerous  to  go  to  New  Orleans  now,  I  sup- 
pose ?" 

'  October  or  November  would  be  better." 

Again  she  looked  at  him  very  earnestly,  then  stretched  out 
her  little  hand. 

"  Good-by,  Russell  ;  I  wish  I  could  do  something  to  help  you, 
to  make  you  less  sorrowful." 

He  held  the  slight  waxen  fingers,  and  his  mouth  trembled  as 
he  answered, 

"  Thank  you,  Miss  Huntingdon.  I  am  not  sorrowful,  but  my 
path  in  life  is  not  quite  so  flowery  as  yours." 

"  I  wish  you  would"  not  call  me  '  Miss  Huntingdon,'  in  that 
stiff,  far-off  way,  as  if  we  were  not  friends.  Or  maybe  it  is  a 
hint  that  you  desire  me  to  address  you  as  Mr.  Aubrey.  It  sounds 
strange,  unnatural,  to  say  anything  but  Russell." 

She  gathered  up  her  books,  took  the  gloves,  and  went  slowly 
homeward,  and  Russell  returned  to  his  desk  with  a  light  in  his 
eyes  which,  for  the  remainder  of  the  day,  nothing  could  quench. 
As  Irene  ascended  the  long  hill  on  which  Mr.  Huntingdon's  resi- 
dence) stood,  she  saw  her  father's  buggy  at  the  door,  and  as  she 
approached  the  steps  he  came  out,  drawing  on  his  gloves. 

"  You  are  late,  Irene.     What  kept  you  ?" 

"  I  have  been  shopping  a  little.  Are  you  going  to  ride  ? 
Take  me  with  you." 

"  Going  to  dine  at  Mr.  Carter's." 

"  Why,  the  sun  is  almost  down  now.  What  time  will  you 
come  home  ?     I  want  to  ask  you  something." 

"  Not  till  long  after  you  are  asleep." 

He  took  his  seat  in  the  buggy,  and  the  spirited  horse  dashed 


20  MACAKIA  ;    OE, 

down  the  avenue.  A  servant  came  forward  to  take  her  hat  and 
satchel,  and  inform  her  that  her  dinner  had  waited  some  time. 
Miss  Margaret  sat  crocheting  at  the  front  window  of  the  dining- 
room,  and  Irene  ate  her  dinner  in  silence.  As  she  rose  and 
approached  her  aunt,  the  door  swung  open  and  a  youth 
entered,  apparently  about  Russell's  age,  though  really  one  year 
older. 

"  Irene,  I  am  tired  to  death,  waiting  for  you.  What  a  pro- 
voking girl  you  are.  The  horses  have  been  saddled  at  least  one 
hour  and  a  half.  Do  get  on  your  riding-dress.  I  am  out  of  all 
patience." 

He  rapped  his  boot  heavily  with  his  whip  by  way  of  emphasis, 
and  looked  hurriedly  at  his  watch. 

"  I  did  not  promise  to  ride  with  you  this  evening,  Hugh,"  an- 
swered his  cousin,  seating  herself  on  the  window-sill  and  running 
her  fingers  lightly  over  the  bars  of  a  beautiful  cage  where  her 
canary  pecked  playfully  at  the  fair  hand. 

"  Oh,  nonsense  !  Suppose  you  did  n't  promise  ;  I  waited  for 
you,  and  told  Grace  Harriss  and  Charlie  that  we  would  meet 
them  at  the  upper  bend  of  the  river,  just  above  the  factory. 
Charlie's  new  horse  has  just  arrived  from  Tennont — Grreen 
Mountain  Boy,  he  calls  hun — and  we  have  a  bet  of  a  half-dozen 
pairs  of  gloves  that  he  can't  beat  my  Eclipse.  Do  come  along  ! 
Aunt  Margaret,  make  her  come." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  anybody  make  her  do  what  she  is  not 
in  a  humor  for,"  said  his  aunt,  looking  over  her  glasses  at  the 
hthe,  graceful  figure  on  the  window-sill. 

"  Hugh,  I  would  rather  stay  at  home,  for  I  am  tired,  but  I 
will  go  to  oblige  you." 

Miss  Margaret  lifted  her  eyebrows,  and  as  his  cousin  left  the 
room  Hugh  Seymour  exclaimed  : 

"  Is  n't  she  the  greatest  beauty  in  the  United  States  ?" 
"  She  will  be  a  belle  when  she  is  grown  ;  just  such  a  one  as 
your  mother  was,  only  she  lacks  her  gayety  of  disposition.  She 
is  full  of  strange  notions,  Hugh  ;  you  don't  know  the  half  of  her 
character — her  own  father  does  not.  Frequently  I  am  puzzled 
to  understand  her  myself.'^ 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  21 

"  Oh  !  she  will  come  out  of  all  that.  She  is  curious  about 
some  things  now,  but  she  will  outgrow  it." 

"I  am  afraid  she  will  not,  for  it  is  as  much  a  part  of  her  as 
the  color  of  her  huir  or  the  shape  of  her  nose.  She  has  always 
been  queen." 

Irene  appeared  at  the  door  with  a  small  silver  porte-monnaie 
in  her  hand.  She  counted  the  contents,  put  it  into  her  pocket, 
and  gathering  up  the  folds  of  her  habit,  led  the  way  to  the 
front  door.  Hugh  adjusted  the  reins,  and  laying  one  hand  on 
his,  she  sprang  lightly  to  her  saddle,  then  stroked  her  horse's 
silky  mane  and  said  : 

"  Erebus  can  leave  Green  Mountain  Boy  so  far  behind  that 
Charlie  would  find  it  no  easy  matter  to  count  the  plumes  in  my 
hat.     Are  you  ready  ?  " 

The   beautiful,  jetty   creature,  as  if  conscious  of  her  praise, 
tossed  his  head  and   sprang  off  in  a  canter,  but  wheeling  round 
she  called  to  the  groom  who  stood  watching  them  : 
"  Unchain  Paragon  !  " 

Five  minutes  later  the  cousins  were  galloping  on,  with  a  su- 
perb greyhound  following  close  at  Erebus'  heels,  and  leaping  up 
now  and  then  in  obedience  to  the  motion  of  Irene's  hand.  The 
road  ran  through  a  hilly  country,  now  clad  in  stern,  ancestral 
pines,  and  now  skirted  with  oak  and  hickory,  and  about  a  mile 
beyond  the  town  it  made  a  sharp  angle,  and  took  the  river 
bank.  The  sun  had  set,  but  the  western  sky  was  still  aglow  ; 
and  near  the  bank,  where  the  current  was  not  perceptible,  the 
changing  tints  of  the  clouds  were  clearly  mirrored,  but  in  the 
middle  of  the  stream  a  ledge  of  rock  impeded  its  course,  and  the 
water  broke  over  with  a  dull  roar,  churning  itself  into  foam  and 
spray  as  it  dashed  from  shelf  to  shelf  of  the  stony  barrier.  Just 
opposite  the  Fall,  Irene  checked  her  horse,  and  paused  to  ad- 
mire the  beauty  of  the  scene  ;  but  in  another  moment  the  quick 
tramp  of  hoofs  fell  on  her  ear,  and  Hugh's  young  friends  joined 
them.  Green  Mountain  Boy  was  flecked  with  foam,  and  as 
Irene  measured  his  perfections  at  one  hasty  glance  she  patted  her 
favorite's  head  and  challenged  Charlie  for  a  trial  of  speed. 

"  No,  Charlie   and  I  must  have  the  race.     Miss  Grace,  you 


22  MACAETA  ;    OR, 

and  Irene  can  take  care  of  yourselves  for  a  few  minutes.  "We 
will  wait  for  you  on  the  edge  of  town,  at  the  grave  yard.  Now, 
Charlie,  I  am  ready." 

They  took  their  places  in  front,  and  were  soon  out  of  sight,  as 
the  road  followed  the  curves  of  the  river.  Erebus  plunged  vio- 
lently at  first,  not  being  accustomed  to  lag  behind  Eclipse,  but 
by  much  persuasion  and  frequent  kind  touches  on  his  head,  Irene 
managed  to  reconcile  him  to  the  temporary  disgrace. 

Grace  looked  at  his  antics  rather  fearfully,  and  observed  that 
no  amount  of  money  could  tempt  her  to  mount  hun. 

"Why  not?" 

"  He  will  break  your  neck  yet." 

"He  is  very  spirited,  but  as  gentle  as  Paragon.  Come, 
Grace,  it  is  getting  late  ;  they  will  be  waiting  for  us.  Quicken 
your  sober  meek  Uttle  brownie." 

"  So  Electra  is  not  coming  back  to  school.  It  is  a  great  pity 
she  can't  have  an  education." 

"  Who  told  you  anything  about  her  ?" 

"  Oh,  everybody  knows  how  poor  her  aunt  is  ;  and  now  to 
mend  matters  she  is  going  blind.  I  would  go  to  see  Electra  oc- 
casionally if  the  family  had  not  been  so  disgraced.  I  like  her, 
but  no  genteel  person  recognizes  Mrs.  Aubrey,  even  in  the 
street." 

"  That  is  very  unjust.  She  is  one  of  the  most  refined,  elegant 
women  I  have  ever  seen.  She  ought  not  to  be  blamed  for  her 
husband's  misfortune.     Poverty  is  no  crime." 

If  she  had  been  treated  to  a  Hindostanee  proverb,  Grace 
could  not  have  looked  more  stupidly  surprised. 

"  Why,  Irene  !     Mrs.  Aubrey  wears  a  bit-calico  to  church." 

"  Well,  suppose  she  does  ?  Is  people's  worth  to  be  determin- 
ed only  by  the  cost  or  the  quality  of  their  clothes  ?  If  I  were 
to  give  your  cook  a  silk  dress  exactly  like  that  one  your  uncle 
i^ent  you  from  Paris,  and  provide  her  with  shawl  and  bonnet  to 
match,  would  she  be  your  equal,  do  you  think  ?  I  imagine  you 
would  not  thank  me  or  anybody  else  who  insinuated  that  Mrs. 
Harriss'  negro  cook  was  quite  as  genteel  and  elegant  as  Miss 
Grace  herself,  because  she  wore  exactly  the  same  kind  of  clothes. 


ALTARS   OF    SACRIFICE.  23 

I  tell  you,  Grace,  it  is  all  humbug  !  this  everlasting  talk  about 
fashion,  and  dress,  and  gentiUty  !  Pshaw  !  I  am  sick  of  it. 
When  our  forefathers  were  fighting  for  freedom,  for  a  national 
existence,  I  wonder  whether  their  wives  measured  each  other's 
respectability  or  gentility  by  then*  lace  collars  or  the  number  of 
flounces  on  their  dresses  ?  Grace  Harriss,  your  great-grandmo- 
ther, and  mine,  and  probably  everybody's  else,  spun  the  cotton, 
and  wove  the  cloth,  and  cut  and  made  their  homespun  dresses, 
and  were  thankful  to  get  them.  And  these  women  who  had  not 
even  bit-calicoes  were  the  mothers,  and  wives,  and  sisters,  and 
daughters  of  men  who  estabhshed  the  most  glorious  government 
on  the  face  of  the  broad  earth  !  The  way  the  women  of  Amer- 
ica have  degenerated  is  a  crying  shame.  I  tell  you,  I  would 
blush  to  look  my  great-grandmother  in  the  face." 

Grace  shrugged  her  shoulders  in  expressive  silence,  and,  soon 
after,  they  reached  the  spot  where  the  boys  were  waitmg  to  join 
them. 

*'  Eclipse  made  good  his  name  !"  cried  Hugh,  triumphantly, 
while  Charlie  bit  his  lip  with  chagrin. 

"  Xever  mind,  Charlie,  Erebus  can  distance  Eclipse  any  day." 

"  ^ot  so  easily,"  muttered  Hugh. 

"  I  will  prove  it  the  next  time  we  ride.  Now  for  a  canter  as 
far  as  Grace's  door." 

On  they  went,  through  the  main  street  of  the  town  :  Erebus 
ahead.  Paragon  at  his  heels,  then  all  the  others.  The  wind 
blew  Irene's  veil  over  her  eyes,  she  endeavored  to  put  it  back, 
and  in  the  effort  dropped  her  whip.  It  was  dusk  ;  they  were 
near  one  of  the  crossings,  and  a  tall  well-known  form  stooped, 
found  the  whip,  and  handed  it  up.  Erebus  shied,  but  the  hand 
touched  Irene's  as  it  inserted  the  silver  handle  in  the  slender 
fingers. 

"  Thank  you,  Russell,  thank  you  very  much." 

He  bowed  formally,  drew  his  straw  hat  over  his  brow,  and 
walked  on  with  two  heavy  account-books  under  his  arm. 

"  I  can't  endure  that  boy,"  said  Hugh,  at  the  distance  of  half 
a  square,  flourishing  his  whip  energetically  as  he  spoke. 

*'  Nor  I,"  chimed  in  Charhe. 


24  MACARIA  ;    OR, 

"  Why  not  ?  I  have  known  him  a  long  time,  and  I  like  him 
very  much. 

"  He  is  so  confoundedly  proud  and  saintly." 

"  That  exists  entirely  in  your  imagination,  Hugh.  You  don't 
know  half  his  good  qualities,"  returned  Irene,  a  little  quickly. 

"  Bah  I" — began  her  cousin  ;  but  here  their  companions  bade 
them  good-night,  and,  as  if  disinclined  to  continue  the  subject, 
Irene  kept  in  advance  till  they  reached  home.  Tea  was  waiting  ; 
Miss  Margaret  and  Hugh  talked  of  various  things  ;  Irene  sat 
balancing  her  spoon  upon  the  edge  of  her  cup.  Finally,  tired  of 
listening,  she  glided  to  the  front  door  and  seated  herself  on  the 
steps.  Paragon  followed,  and  laid  down  at  her  feet.  Every- 
thing was  quiet,  save  the  distant  roar  of  the  river  as  it  foamed 
over  its  rocky  bed  ;  below,  hanging  on  the  bank  of  the  stream, 
lay  the  town.  From  her  elevated  position  she  could  trace  the 
winding  of  the  streets  by  the  long  rows  of  lamps  ;  and  now  and 
then  a  faint  hum  rose  on  the  breeze,  as  it  swept  up  the  hill  and 
lost  itself  in  the  forest  behind  the  house.  Yery  soon  Hugh  came 
out,  cigar  in  hand,  and  threw  himself  down  beside  her. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Irie  ?" 

"  Nothing." 

"  What  are  you  moping  here  for  ?" 

"  I  am  not  moping  at  all  ;  I  am  waiting  for  father." 

"  He  will  not  be  here  for  three  hours  yet.  Don't  you  know 
that  Mr.  Carter's  dinners  always  end  in  card-parties  ?  He  is 
famous  for  whist  and  euchre,  and  doubtless  his  dinners  pay  him 
well.     What  do  you  want  with  uncle  ?" 

"  Hugh,  do  throw  away  your  cigar.  It  is  ridiculous  to  see  a 
boy  of  your  age  puffing  away  in  that  style.  Betting  and  smoking 
seem  to  be  the  only  things  you  have  learned  at  Yale.  By  the 
way,  when  do  you  go  back  ?" 

"  Are  you  getting  tired  of  me  ?  I  go  back  in  ten  days.  Irene, 
do  you  know  that  I  am  not  coming  home  next  vacation  ?  I  have 
promised  a  party  of  meiTy  fellows  to  spend  it  with  them  in 
Canada.  Then  the  next  summer  I  go  to  Europe,  for  two  years 
at  least.  Are  you  listening  ?  Do  you  understand  that  it  will  be 
four  years  before  I  see  you  again  ?" 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  25 

"  Yes,  I  understand." 

"  I  dare  say  the  time  will  seem  longer  to  me  than  to  you." 

'*  I  hope  when  you  do  come  back  we  shall  not  be  disappomted 
in  you." 

He  took  her  hand,  but  she  withdrew  her  fingers. 

"  Irene,  you  belong  to  me,  and  you  know  it." 

"  No  I  I  belong  to  God  and  myself." 

She  rose,  and,  retreating  to  the  library,  opened  her  books  and 
began  to  study.  The  night  passed  very  slowly  ;  she  looked  nt 
the  clock  again  and  again.  Finally  the  house  became  quiet,  and 
at  last  the  crush  of  wheels  on  the  gravel-walk  announced  her 
father's  return*  He  came  into  the  library  for  a  cigar,  and,  witli- 
out  noticing  her,  drew  his  chair  to  the  open  window.  She  ap- 
proached and  put  her  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Irene  I  what  is  the  matter,  child  ?" 

"  Nothing,  sir  ;  only  I  want  to  ask  you  something." 

"Well,  Queen,  what  is  it?" 

He  drew  her  tenderly  to  his  knee,  and  passed  his  hand  over 
her  floating  hair. 

Leonard  Huntingdon  was  forty  years  old  ;  tall,  spare,  with  an 
erect  and  martial  carriage.  He  had  been  trained  at  West  Pouit, 
and  perhaps  early  education  contributed  somewhat  to  the  air  of 
unbending  haughtiness  which  many  found  repulsive.  His  black 
hair  was  slightly  sprinkled  with  gray,  and  his  features  were  still 
decidedly  handsome,  though  the  expression  of  mouth  and  eyes 
was,  ordinarily,  by  no  means  winning.  He  could  seem  very  fas- 
cinating, but  rarely  deigned  to  be  so  ;  and  an  intimate  acquahit- 
auce  was  not  necessary  to  teach  people  that  he  was  proud,  ob- 
stinate, and  thoroughly  selfish — loving  only  Hugh,  Irene,  and 
himself.  She  was  his  only  child  ;  her  mother  had  died  during 
her  infancy,  and  on  this  beautiful  idol  he  lavished  all  the  tender- 
ness of  which  his  nature  was  capable.  His  tastes  were  cultiva- 
ted, his  house  was  elegant  and  complete,  and  furnished  magnifi- 
cently ;  every  luxury  that  money  could  yield  him  he  possessed, 
yet  there  were  times  when  he  seemed  moody  and  cynical,  and  no 
one  could  surmise  the  cause  of  his  gloom.  To-night  there  was 
no  shadow  on  his  face,  however  ;  doubtless  the  sparkle  of  the 

2 


26  macakia;  ok, 

wine-cup  still  shone  in  his  piercing  blue  eye,  and  the  girl  looked 
up  at  him  fearing  no  denial. 

"  Father,  I  wish,  please,  you  would  give  me  two  hundred  dol- 
lars." 

"  What  would  you  do  with  it,  Queen  ?" 

**  I  do  not  want  it  for  myself  ;  I  should  like  to  have  that  much 
to  enable  a  poor  woman  to  recover  her  sight.  She  has  cataracts 
on  her  eyes,  and  there  is  a  physician  in  New  Orleans  who  can 
relieve  her.  She  is  poor,  and  it  will  cost  about  two  hundred  dol- 
lars.    Father,  won^t  you  give  me  the  money  ?" 

He  took  the  cigar  from  his  lips,  shook  off  the  ashes,  and  ask- 
ed indifferently :  » 

^'  What  is  the  woman^s  name  ?  Has  she  no  husband  to  take 
care  of  her  ?" 

"  Mrs.  Aubrey  ;  she — " 

"  What  P' 

The  cigar  fell  from  his  fingers,  he  put  her  from  his  knee,  and 
rose  instantly.  His  swarthy  cheek  glowed,  and  she  wondered  at 
the  expression  of  his  eyes,  so  different  from  anything  she  had  ever 
seen  there  before. 

"  Father,  do  you  know  her  ?" 

"  What  do  you  know  of  her  ?  What  business  is  it  of  yours, 
whether  she  goes  blind  or  not  ?  Is  it  possible  Margaret  allows 
you  to  visit  at  that  house  ?  Answer  me  ;  what  do  you  know 
about  her  ?'^ 

"  I  know  that  she  is  a  very  gentle,  unfortunate  woman  ;  that 
she  has  many  bitter  trials  ;  that  she  works  hard  to  support  her 
family  ;  that  she  is  noble  and — " 

"  Who  gave  you  permission  to  visit  that  house  ?" 

"  Xo  permission  was  necessary.  I  go  there  because  I  love 
her  and  Electra,  and  because  I  like  Russell.  Why  should  n't  I 
go  there,  sir  ?     Is  poverty  disgrace  ?'' 

**  Irene,  mark  me.  You  are  to  visit  that  house  no  more  in 
future  ;  keep  away  from  the  whole  family.  I  will  have  no  such 
association.     Xever  let  me  hear  their  names  again.     Go  to  bed/' 

"  Give  me  one  good  reason,  and  I  will  obey  you." 

"  Reason  !     My  will,  my  command,  is  sufficient  reason.     What 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  27 

do  you  mean  by  catechising  me  in  this  way  ?     Imphcit  obedience 
is  your  duty." 

The  cahn,  holy  eyes  looked  wonderingly  into  his  ;  and  as  he 
marked  the  startled  expression  of  the  girl's  pure  face  his  own 
eyes  drooped. 

"  Father,  has  Mrs.  Aubrey  ever  injured  you  ?" 

No  answer. 

"  If  she  has  not,  you  are  very  unjust  to  her  ;  if  she  has,  re- 
meml.)er  she  is  a  woman,  bowed  down  with  many  sorrows,  and  it 
is  unmanly  to  hoard  up  old  difiereuces.  Father,  please  give  m43 
tiiat  money." 

"  I  will  bury  my  last  dollar  in  the  Red  Sea  first !  Now  are 
you  answered  ?" 

She  put  her  hands  over  her  eyes,  as  if  to  shut  out  some  painful 
vision  ;  and  he  saw  the  slight  form  shudder.  In  perfect  silence 
she  took  her  books  and  went  up  to  her  room,  Mr.  Huntingdon 
reseated  himself  as  the  door  closed  behind  her,  and  the  lamplight 
sliowed  a  sinister  smile  writhing  over  his  dark  features.  In  the 
busy  hours  of  day,  in  the  rush  and  din  of  active  life,  men  can 
drown  remorseful  wiiispers,  and  shut  their  eyes  to  the  panorama 
which  memory  strives  to  place  before  them  ;  but  there  come  still 
hours,  solemn  and  inexorable,  when  struggles  are  useless,  and  the 
phantom-recollections  of  early  years  crowd  up  like  bannered 
armies.  He  sat  there,  staring  out  into  the  starry  night,  and  see- 
ing by  the  shimmer  of  the  setting  moon  only  the  graceful  form 
and  lovely  face  of  Amy  Aubrey,  as  'she  had  appeared  to  him  in 
other  days.  Could  he  forget  the  hour  when  she  wrenched  her 
cold  fingers  from  his  clasp,  and,  in  defiance  of  her  father's  wishes, 
vowed  she  would  never  be  his  wife  ?  No  ;  revenge  was  sweet, 
very  sweet  ;  his  heart  had  swelled  with  exultation  when  the  ver- 
dict of  death  upon  the  gallows  was  pronounced  upon  the  husband 
of  iier  choice  ;  and  now,  her  poverty,  her  humiliation,  her  blind- 
ness gave  him  deep,  unutterable  joy.  The  history  of  the  past 
was  a  sealed  volume  to  his  daughter,  but  she  was  now  for  the 
first  time  conscious  that  her  father  regarded  the  widow  and  lier 
son  with  unconquerable  hatred  ;  and  with  strange,  foreboding 
dread   she   looked  into   the  future,    knowing   that   forgiveness 


28  MACAEIA  ;    OE, 

was  no  part  of  bis   nature  ;    that  insult  or  injury  was  never 
forgotten. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Whether  the  general  rule  of  implicit  obedience  to  parental 
injunction  admitted  of  no  exceptions,  was  a  problem  which  Irene 
readily  solved  ;  and  on  Saturday,  as  soon  as  her  father  and 
cousin  had  started  to  the  plantation  (twenty-five  miles  distant), 
she  put  on  her  hat,  and  walked  to  town.  Wholly  absorbed  in 
philanthropic  schemes,  she  hurried  along  the  sidewalk,  ran  up  a 
flight  of  steps,  and  knocked  at  a  door,  on  which  was  written  in 
"kirge  gilt  letters  "  Dr.  Arnold." 

"Ah,  Beauty  !  come  in.  Sit  down,  and  tell  me  what  brought 
you  to  town  so  early.'' 

He  was  probably  a  man  of  fifty  ;  gruff  in  appearance,  and 
nnmistakably  a  bachelor.  His  thick  hair  was  grizzled,  so  was 
the  heavy  beard  ;  and  the  shaggy  gray  eyebrows  slowly  unbent, 
as  he  took  his  visitor's  little  hands  and  looked  kindly  down  into 
her  grave  face.  From  her  infancy  he  had  petted  and  fondled 
her,  and  she  stood  as  little  in  awe  of  him  as  of  Paragon. 

"  Doctor,  are  you  busy  this  morning  ?" 

"  I  am  never  too  busy  to  attend  to  you,  httle  one.  What 
is  it  ?" 

*'  Of  course  yon  know  that  Mrs.  Aubrey  is  almost  blind." 

"  Of  course  I  do,  having  been  her  physician." 

"Those  cataracts  can  be  removed,  however." 

"  Perhaps  they  can,  and  perhaps  they  can't." 

"  But  the  probabilities  are  that  a  good  occulist  can  relieve 
her." 

"  I  rather  think  so." 

"  Two  hundred  dollars  would  defray  all  the  expenses  of  a  trip 
to  New  Orleans  for  this  purpose,  but  she  is  too  poor  to  afford 
it." 

"  Decidedly  too  poor." 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  S& 

Tlis  o-ray  eyes  twinkled  promisingly,  but  be  would  not  antici- 
pate her. 

"  Dr.  Arnold,  don't  you  think  you  could  spare  that  small  sum 
without  much  inconvenience  ?" 

"  Really.!  is  that  what  you  trudged  into  town  for?" 

"  Yes,  just  that,  and  nothing  else.  If  I  had  had  the  money  I 
should  not  have  applied  to  you." 

"  Pshaw  !  your  father  could  buy  me  a  dozen  times." 

"  At  any  rate,  I  have  not  the  necessary  amount  at  my  dispo- 
sal just  now,  and  I  came  to  ask  you  to  lend  it  to  me." 

"  For  how  lono;,  Beautv  ?" 

*'  Till  I  am  of  age — perhaps  not  so  long.  I  will  pay  you  the 
interest.'^ 

"  You  will  climb  Popocatapeti,  won't  you  ?     Hush,  child." 

He  went  into  the  adjoining  room,  but  soon  returned,  and  re- 
sumed his  seat  on  the  sofa  by  her  side. 

"  Irene,  did  you  first  apply  to  your  father  ?  I  don't  relish 
the  idea  of  being  a  dernier  ressortP 

"  What  difference  can  it  make  to  you  whether  I  did  or  did 
not  ?  That  I  come  to  you  at  all  is  sufficient  proof  of  my  faith 
in  your  generosity." 

Hiram  Arnold  was  an  acute  and  practiced  physiognomist,  but 
the  pale,  quiet  face  perplexed  him. 

"  Do  you  want  the  money  now  ?" 

''  Yes,  if  you  please  ;  but  before  you  give  it  to  me  I  ought  to 
tell  you  that  I  want  the  matter  ke[)t  secret.  No  one  is  to  know 
anything  about  it — not  even  my  father." 

"  Irene,  is  it  right  to  inveigle  me  into  schemes  with  which  you 
are  ashamed  to  have  your  own  father  acquainted  ?" 

"  You  know  tlie  whole  truth,  therefore  you  are  not  inveigled  : 
and  moreover.  Doctor,  I  am  not  ashamed  of  anything  I  do." 

She  looked  so  unembarrassed  that  for  a  moment  he  felt 
puzzled. 

"  I  knew  Mrs.  Aubrey  before  her  marriage."  He  bent  for- 
ward to  watch  the  effect  of  his  words,  but  if  she  really  knew  or 
suspected  aught  of  the  past  there  was  not  the  slightest  intima- 
tion of  it.     Putting  back  her  hair,  she  looked  up  and  answered  : 


30  MACARIA  ;    OE, 

"  Thot  should  increase  your  willingness  to  aid  her  in  her  mis- 
fortunes." 

"  Hold  out  your  hand  ;  fifty,  one  hundred,  a  hundred  and 
fifty,  two  hundred.     There,  will  that  do  ?" 

"  Thank  you  !  thank  you.  You  will  not  need  it  soon,  I 
hope  ?" 

"  Xot  until  you  are  ready  to  pay  me." 

"  Dr.  Arnold,  you  have  given  me  a  great  deal  of  pleasure — 
more  than  I  can  express.     I — ." 

"  Don't  try  to  express  it,  Queen.  You  have  given  me  in- 
finitely more,  I  assure  you." 

Her  splendid  eyes  were  lifted  toward  him,  and  with  some  sud- 
den impulse  she  touched  her  lips  to  the  hand  he  had  placed  on 
her  shoulder.  Somethiuo"  like  a  tremor  crossed  the  doctor's 
habitually  stern  mouth  as  he  looked  at  the  marvellous  beauty  of 
the  girl's  countenance,  and  he  kissed  her  slender  fingers  as  rev- 
erently as  though  he  touched  something  consecrated. 

"  Irene,  shall  I  take  you  home  in  my  buggy  ?" 

"  No,  thank  you,  I  would  rather  walk.  Oh  !  Doctor,  I  am 
so  much  obliged  to  you." 

She  drew  her  hat  over  her  face,  and  went  down  the  steps. 
Dr.  Arnold  walked  slowly  across  the  ofBce-floor  with  his  hands 
behind  him  ;  the  grim  face  was  placid  now,  the  dark  furrows  on 
his  brow  were  not  half  so  deep,  and  as  he  paused  and  closed  a 
pondrous  volume  lying  on  the  table,  a  smile  suddenly  flitted 
over  his  features,  as  one  sees  a  sunbeam  struggle  through  rifts 
in  low  rain-clouds.  He  put  the  book  in  the  case,  and  locked 
the  glass  door.  The  "  Augustinian  Theory  of  Evil"  was  con- 
tained in  the  volume,  which  seemed  by  no  means  to  have  satis- 
fied him. 

"  All  a  maze  worse  than  that  of  Crete  !  I  will  follow  that 
girl  I  she  shall  be  my  Ariadne  in  this  Egyptian  darkness. 
Pshaw  !  if  His  Highness  of  Hippo  were  right,  what  would  be- 
come of  the  world  ?  All  social  organizations  are  based  (and 
firmly  too)  on  man's  faith  in  man  ;  establish  the  universal  de- 
pravity, devilishness  of  the  human  race,  and  lo  !  what  supports 
the  mighty  social  fabric  !     Machiavehsm  ?     If  that  queer  little 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  31 

ontraincd  frectliinker,  Irene,  is  not  pure  and  sinless,  then  tliere 
are  neither  seraphim  nor  cherubim  in  high  heaven  I  Cyrus,  bring 
out  my  buggy." 

In  answer  to  Irene's  knock,  Eleetra  opened  the  cottage  door, 
and  ushered  her  into  the  small  room  which  served  as  both 
kitchen  and  dining-room.  Everything  was  scrupulously  neat, 
not  a  spot  on  the  bare  polished  floor,  not  a  speck  to  dim  the 
purity  of  the  snowy  dimity  curtains,  and  on  the  table  in  the 
centre  stood  a  vase  filled  with  fresh  fragrant  flowers.  In  a  low 
chair  before  the  open  window  sat  the  widow  knitting  a  blue  and 
white  nubia.     She  glanced  round  as  Irene  entered. 

"  Who  is  it,  Eleetra  V' 

"  Miss  Irene,  aunt." 

"  Sit  down.  Miss  Irene  ;  how  are  you  to  day  ?" 

She  spoke  rapidly,  and  for  a  moment  seemed  confused,  then 
resumed  her  work.  Irene  watched  her  pale,  delicate  fingers,  and 
the  long  auburn  lashes  drooping  over  the  colorless  cheeks,  and 
when  she  looked  up  for  an  instant,  the  visitor  saw  that  the" 
mild,  meek  brown  eyes  were  sadly  blurred.  If  ever  resignation 
enthroned  itself  on  a  woman's  brow,  one  might  have  bowed  be- 
fore Amy  Aubrey's  sweet,  placid,  subdued  face.  No  Daniel 
was  needed  to  interpret  the  lines  which  sorrow  had  printed 
around  her  patient,  tremulous  mouth, 

"  Mrs.  Aubrey,  I  am  sorry  to  hear  your  eyes  are  no  better." 

"  Thank  you  for  your  kind  sympathy.  My  sight  grows  more 
dim  every  day." 

"  I  should  think  netting  would  be  injurious  to  you  now." 

"  It  is  purely  mechanical  ;  I  use  my  eyes  very  little.  Eleetra 
arranges  the  colors  for  me,  and  I  find  it  easy  work." 

Irene  knelt  down  before  her,  and,  folding  one  of  the  hands 
in  both  hei*s,  said  eagerly  : 

"  You  shan't  suffer  much  longer  ;  these  veils  shall  be  taken 
off.  Here  is  the  money  to  enable  you  to  go  to  Xew  Orleans  and 
consult  that  physician.  As  soon  as  the  weather  turns  cooler 
you  must  start." 

^'  Miss  Irene,  I  cannot  tax  your  generosity  so  heavily  ;  I  have 
no  claim  on  your  goodness.     Indeed  I " 


32  MAC  ART  A  ;    OR, 

"  Please  don't  refuse  the  money  !  You  will  distress  me  very 
much  if  you  do.  Why  should  you  hesitate  ?  If  it  makes  me 
happy  and  benefits  you,  why  will  you  decline  it  ?  Do  you  think 
if  my  eyes  were  in  the  condition  of  yours  that  I  would  not  thank 
you  to  reheve  me  ?•' 

The  widow  had  risen  hastily,  and  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands,  while  an  unwonted  flush  dyed  her  cheeks.  She  trembled, 
and  Irene  saw  tears  stealing  through  her  fingers. 

"  Mrs.  Aubrey,  don't  you  think  it  is  your  duty  to  recover 
your  sight  if  possible  ?" 

"  Yes,  if  I  could  command  the  means." 

"You  have  the  means  ;  you  must  employ  them.  There,  I 
will  not  take  back  the  money  ;  it  is  yours." 

"  Don't  refuse  it,  auntie,  you  will  wound  Irie,"  pleaded  Elec- 
tra. 

How  little  they  understood  or  appreciated  the  struggle  in  that 
gentle  sufiierer's  heart  ;  how  impossible  for  them  to  realize  tlie 
'humiliation  she  endured  in  accepting  such  a  gift  from  the  child 
of  Leonard  Huntingdon  ! 

With  a  faltering  voice  she  asked  : 

"Did  your  father  send  me  this  money  ?" 

"  Xo." 

It  was  the  first  time  she  had  ever  alluded  to  him,  and  Irene 
saw  that  some  painful  memory  linked  itself  with  her  father.  What 
could  it  be  ?  There  was  silence  for  a  few  seconds  ;  then  Mrs. 
Aubrey  took  the  hands  from  her  face  and  said  :  "  Irene,  I  will 
accept  your  generous  offer.  If  my  sight  is  restored,  I  can  repay 
you  some  day  ;  if  not,  I  am  not  too  proud  to  be  under  this  great 
obligation  to  you.  Oh,  Irene  !  I  can't  tell  you  how  much  I 
thank  you  ;  my  heart  is  too  full  for  words."  She  threw  her  arm 
round  the  girl's  waist  and  strained  her  to  her  bosom,  and  the  hot 
tears  fell  fast  on  the  waves  of  golden  hair.  A  moment  after, 
Irene  threw  a  tiny  envelope  into  Electra's  lap,  and  without  an- 
other word  glided  out  of  the  room.  The  orphan  broke  the  seal, 
and  as  she  opened  a  sheet  of  note  paper  a  ten  dollar  bill  slipped 
out. 


ALTARS    OF    6ACKIFICE.  33 

"  Electra,  come  to  school  Monday.  The  enclosed  will  pay 
your  tuition  for  two  months  longer.  Please  don't  hesitate  to  ac- 
cept it,  if  you  really  love 

"  Your  friend  Irene." 

Mrs.  Aubrey  sat  with  her  face  in  her  hands,  listening  to  the 
mournful,  solemn  voice  that  stole  up  from  the  mouldering,  dusty 
crypts  of  by-gone  years  ;  and  putting  the  note  in  her  pocket, 
Electra  leaned  her  head  against  the  window  and  thanked  God 
fur  the  gift  of  a  true  friend.  Thinking  of  the  group  she  had  just 
left,  Irene  approached  the  gate  and  saw  that  Russell  stood  hold- 
ing it  open  for  her  to  pass.  Looking  up  she  stopped,  for  the  ex- 
pression of  his  face  frightened  and  pained  her. 

"  Russell,  what  is  the  matter  ?  oh  !  tell  me." 

A  scornful,  defiant  smile  distorted  his  bloodless  lips,  but  he 
made  no  answer.  She  took  his  hand  ;  it  was  cold,  and  the  fin- 
gers were  clenched. 

"  Russell,  are  you  ill  ?" 

She  shuddered  at  the  glare  in  his  black  eyes. 

"  I  am  not  ill." 

"  Won't  you  tell  your  friend  what  ails  you  ?" 

**  I  have  no  friend  but  my  mother." 

"  Oh,  Russell,  Russell  !" 

Her  head  drooped,  and  the  glittering  hair  swept  as  a  veil  be- 
tween them.  The  low  flute-like,  pleading  voice  stirred  his  heart, 
and  the  blood  surged  over  his  pallid  forehead. 

"  I  have  been  injured  and  insulted.  Just  now  I  doubt  all  peo- 
ple and  all  things,  even  the  justice  and  mercy  of  God." 

"  Russell,  '  shall  not  the  righteous  Judge  of  all  the  earth  do 
right  V  " 

''  Shall  the  rich  and  the  unprincipled  eternally  trample  upon 
the  poor  and  the  unfortunate  ?" 

"  Who  has  injured  you  ?" 

"  A  meek  looking  man  who  passes  for  a  Christian,  who  turns 
pale  at  thg  sound  of  a  violin,  who  exhorts  to  missionary  labors, 
and  talks  often  about  widows  and  orphans.  Such  a  man,  know- 
ing the  circumstances  that  surround  me,  my  poverty,  my  mother's 

2* 


3i  MACAKIA  ;    OR, 

affliction,  on  l)are  aud  most  unwarrantable  suspicion  turns  me  out 
of  ray  situation  as  clerk,  and  endeavors  to  brand  my  name  with  in- 
famy. To-day  I  stand  disgraced  in  the  eyes  of  the  community, 
thanks  to  the  vile  slanders  of  that  pillar  of  the  church,  Jacob  AYat- 
son.  Four  years  ago  I  went  to  my  work  quietly,  hopefully  ;  but 
now  another  spirit  has  entered  and  possessed  me.  Irene,  I  am  des- 
perate. Do  you  wonder  ?  It  seems  to  me  ages  have  rolled  over 
me  since  my  mother  kissed  me  this  morning;  there  is  a  hissing  ser- 
peut  in  my  heart  which  I  have  no  power  to  expel.  I  could  bear  it 
myself,  but  my  motlier  !  my  noble,  patient,  suffering  mother  !  I 
must  go  in,  and  add  a  yet  heavier  burden  to  those  already  crush- 
ing out  her  life.  Pleasant  tidings,  these  I  bring  her  :  that  her 
son  is  disgraced,  branded  as  a  rogue  !" 

There  was  no  moisture  in  the  keen  eye,  no  tremor  in  the  me- 
tallic ring  of  his  voice,  no  relaxation  of  the  curled  lip.  • 

'*  Can't  you  prove  your  innocence  ?     Was  it  money  ? " 

"  Xo,  it  was  a  watch,  which  I  gave  up  as  security  for  draw- 
ing a  portion  of  my  salary  in  advance.  It  was  locked  up  in  the 
iron  safe  ;  this  morning  it  was  missing,  and  they  accuse  me  of 
having  stolen  it." 

He  took  off  his  hat  as  if  it  oppressed  him,  and  tossed  back  Ms 
hair. 

"  What  will  you  do,  Pvussell  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  yet." 

"  Oh  !  if  I  could  only  help  you." 

She  clasped  her  hands  over  her  heart,  and  for  the  first  time 
since  her  infancy  tears  rushed  down  her  cheeks.  It  was  painful 
to  see  that  quiet  girl  so  moved,  and  Russell  hastily  took  the 
folded  hands  in  his,  and  bent  his  face  close  to  hers. 

"  Irene,  the  only  comfort  I  have  is  that  you  are  my  friend. 
Don't  let  them  influence  you  against  me.  Xo  matter  what  you 
may  hear,  beUeve  in  me.  Oh  !  Irene,  Irene  1  believe  in  me  al- 
ways 1 " 

He  held  her  hands  in  a  clasp  so  tight  that  it  pained  her,  then 
suddenly  dropped  them  and  left  her.  As  a  pantomime  all  this 
passed  between  Electra's  eyes  ;  not  a  word  reached  her,  but  she 
knew  that   something  unusual  had  occurred  to  bring  her  cousin 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  35 

home  nt  tliat  hour,  and  felt  that  now  he  was  1)nt  the  avant-cou- 
rier  of  a  new  sorrow.  She  glanced  toward  her  aunt's  bowed 
form,  then  smothered  a  groan,  and  sat  waiting  for  the  blow  to 
fall  upon  her.  Why  spring  to  meet  it  ?  He  went  to  his  own 
room  first,  and  five,  ten,  fifteen  minutes  rolled  on.  She  listened 
to  the  fahit  sound  of  his  steps,  and  knew  that  he  paced  up  and 
down  the  floor  ;  five  minutes  more  of  crushing  suspense,  and  he 
came  along  the  passage  and  stood  at  the  door.  She  looked  at 
him,  pale,  erect,  and  firm,  and  slmddered  in  thinking  of  the 
struggle  which  that  calm  exterior  had  cost  him.  Mrs.  Aubrey 
recognized  the  step,  and  looked  round  in  surprise. 

*'  Electra,  I  certainly  hear  Russell  coming." 

He  drew  near  and  touched  her  cheek  with  his  lips,  saying  ten- 
derly: 

"  How  is  my  mother  ?" 

'*  Russell,  what  brings  you  home  so  early  ?  " 

"  That  is  rather  a  cold  welcome,  mother,  but  I  am  not  astou- 
islied.  Can  you  bear  to  hear  something  unpleasant  ?  Hear, 
put  your  hands  in  mine  ;  now  listen  to  me.  You  know  I  drew 
fifty  dollars  of  my  salary  in  advance,  to  pay  Clark.  At  that 
time  I  gave  my  watch  to  Mr.  AVatson  by  way  of  pawn,  he 
seemed  so  reluctant  to  let  me  have  the  money  ;  you  understand, 
mother,  why  I  did  not  mention  it  at  the  time.  He  locked  it  up 
in  the  iron  safe,  to  which  no  one  has  access  except  him  and  my- 
self. Late  yesterday  I  locked  the  safe  as  usual,  but  do  not  re- 
member whether  the  watch  was  still  there  or  not ;  this  morning- 
Mr.  Watson  missed  it  ;  we  searched  safe,  desk,  store,  could  find 
it  nowhere,  nor  the  twenty-dollar  gold  piece  deposited  at  the 
same  time  No  other  money  was  missing,  though  the  safe  con- 
tained nearly  a  thousand  dollars.  The  end  of  it  all  is  that  I  am 
accused  as  the  thief,  and  expelled  in  disgrace  for — " 

A  low,  plaintive  cry  escaped  the  widow's  lips,  and  her  head 
sank  heavily  on  the  boy's  shoulder.  Passiflg  his  arm  fondly 
around  her,  he  kissed  her  white  face,  and  continued  in  the  same 
hushed,  passionless  tone,  like  one  speaking  under  his  breath,  and 
stilling  some  devouring  rage  : 

"  Mother,  I  need  not  assure  you  of  my  innocence.     You  know 


36  MACAEIA  ;    OR, 

that  I  never  could  be  guilty  of  what  is  imputed  to  me  ;  but,  not 
having  it  in  my  power  to  prove  my  innocence,  I  shall  have  to 
suffer  the  disgrace  for  a  season.  Only  for  a  season,  I  trust,  mo- 
ther, for  in  time  the  truth  must  be  discovered.  I  have  been 
turned  out  of  my  situation,  and,  though  they  have  no  proof  of  my 
guilt,  they  will  try  to  brand  me  with  the  disgrace.  But  they 
can't  crush  me  ;  so  long  as  there  remains  a  drop  of  ])lood  in  my 
veins,  I  will  scorn  their  slanders  and  their  hatred.  Don't  cry, 
mother  ;  your  tears  hurt  me  more  than  all  my  wrongs.  If  you 
will  only  be  brave,  and  put  entire  confidence  in  me,  I  shall  bear 
all  this  infinitely  better.  Look  at  the  bitter  truth,  face  to  face  ; 
we  have  nothing  more  to  lose.  Poor,  afflicted,  disgraced,  there 
is  nothing  else  on  earth  to  fear  ;  but  there  is  everything  to  hope 
for  ;  wealth,  name,  fame,  influence.  This  is  my  comfort  ;  it  is 
a  grim  philosophy,  born  of  despair.  I  go  forward  from  to-day 
like  a  man  who  comes  out  of  some  fiery  furnace,  and,  blackened 
and  scorched  though  he  be,  looks  into  the  future  without  appre- 
hension, feeling  assured  that  it  can  hold  no  trials  comparable  to 
those  already  past.  Herein  I  am  strong  ;  but  you  should  have 
another  and  far  brighter  hope  to  rest  upon  ;  it  is  just  such 
ordeals  as  this  for  which  religion  promises  you  strength  and 
consolation.  Mother,  I  have  seen  you  su}jported  by  Christian 
faith  in  a  darker  hour  than  this.  Take  courage,  all  will  be  well 
some  day." 

For  a  few  moments  deep  silence  reigned  in  the  little  kitchen, 
and  only  the  Infinite  eye  pierced  the  heart  of  the  long-tried  siif- 
ferer.  When  she  raised  her  head  from  the  boy's  bosom,  the  face, 
though  tear-stained,  was  serene,  and,  pressing  her  lips  twice  to 
his,  she  said  slowly  : 

"  '  Beloved,  think  it  not  strange  concerning  the  fiery  trial 
which  is  to  try  you  ;  as  though  some  strange  thing  happened 
unto  you.  For  whom  the  Lord  loveth  he  chasteneth,  and  scourg- 
eth  every  son  whom  he  receiveth.'  I  will  wait  patiently,  my  son, 
hoping  for  proofs  which  shall  convince  the  world  of  your  inno- 
cence. I  wish  I  could  take  the  whole  burden  on  my  shoulders, 
and  relieve  you,  my  dear  boy." 

"  You  have,  mother  ;  it  ceases  to  crush  me,  now  that  you 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  37 

are  yourself  once  more."  He  spoke  with  difficulty,  however,  as 
if  sonietliino-  stifled  liim,  and,  rising  hastily,  poured  out  and 
drank  a  glass  of  water. 

"  And  now,  Russell,  sit  down  and  let  rae  tell  you  a  little  that 
is  pleasant  and  sunshiny.  There  is  still  a  bright  spot  left  to 
look  upon." 

Stealing  her  hand  into  his,  the  mother  informed  him  of   all  *' 
that  had  occurred  during  Irene's  visit,  and  concluded  by  laying 
the  money  in  his  palm. 

Electra  sat  opposite,  watching  the  change  that  came  over  the 
face  she  loved  best  on  earth.  Her  large,  eager  midnight  eyes 
noted  the  quick  flush  and  glad  light  which  overspread  his  fea- 
tures ;  the  deep  joy  that  kindled  in  his  tortured  soul  ;  and  un- 
consciously she  clutched  her  fingers  till  the  nails  grew  purple, 
as  though  striving  to  strangle  some  hideous  object  thrusting 
itself  before  her.  Her  breathing  became  labored  and  painful, 
her  gaze  more  concentrated  and  searching,  and  when  her  cousin 
exclaimed  :  "  Oh,  mother  1  she  is  an  angel  !  I  have  always 
knoVn  it.  She  is  unlike  everybody  else  I"  Electra's  heart 
seemed  to  stand  still  ;  and  from  that  moment  a  sombre  curtain 
fell  between  the  girl's  eyes  and  God's  sunshine.  She  rose,  and 
a  silent  yet  terrible  struggle  took  place  in  her  passionate  soul. 
Justice  and  jealousy  wrestled  briefly  ;  she  would  be  just  though 
every  star  fell  from  her  sky,  and  with  a  quick,  uncertain  step 
she  reached  Russell,  thrust  Irene's  note  into  his  fingers,  and  fled 
into  solitude.  An  hour  later,  Russell  knocked  at  the  door  of 
an  office,  which  bore  on  a  square  tin  plate  these  words,  "  Robert 
Campbell,  Attorney  at  Law."  The  door  was  partially  closed, 
and  as  he  entered  an  elderly  man  looked  up  from  a  desk,  covered 
with  loose  papers  and  open  volumes  from  which  he  was  evi- 
dently making  extracts.  The  thin  hair  hung  over  his  forehead 
as  if  restless  fingers  had  ploughed  carelessly  through  it,  and,  as 
he  kept  one  finger  on  a  half-copied  paragraph,  the  cold  blue 
eye  said  very  plainly,  ''this  is  a  busy  time  witli  me  ;  dispatch 
your  errand  at  once." 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  Campbell;    are  you    particularly    en- 
gaged ?" 


38  MACAEIA  ;    OR, 

"  How-d'y-clo,  Aubrey.  I  am  generally  engaged  ;  confound- 
edly busy  this  morning.     What  do  you  want  ?" 

His  pen  resumed  its  work,  but  he  turned  his  head  as  if  to 
listen. 

''  I  will  call  again  when  you  are  at  leisure,"  said  Russell, 
turning  away. 

"  That  will  be — next  month — next  year  ;  in  fine,  postponing 
your  visit  indefinitely.  Sit  down — somewhere^-well — clear 
those  books  into  a  corner,  and  let's  hear  your  business.  I  am 
at  your  service  for  ten  minutes — talk  fast." 

He  put  his  pen  behind  his  ear,  crossed  his  arms  on  the  desk, 
and  looked  expectant. 

,. "  I  came  here  to  ask  whether  you  wished  to  employ  any  one 
in  your  office." 

"  And  what  the  deuce  do  you  suppose  I  want  with  an  office- 
lad  like  yourself  ?  To  put  the  very  books  I  need  at  the  bottom 
of  a  pile  tall  as  the  tower  of  Babel,  and  tear  up  briefs  to  kindle 
the  fire  or  light  your  segar  ?  Xo,  thank  you,  Aubrey,  I  tried 
that  experiment  to  my  perfect  satisfaction  a  few  months  ago. 
Is  that  all  ?" 

"That is  all,  sir."  * 

The  boy  rose,  but  the  bitter  look  that  crossed  his  face  as  he 
glanced  at  the  well-tilled  book-shelves  arrested  the  lawyer's  at- 
tention, and  he  added  : 

*'  Why  did  you  leave  Watson,  young  man  ?  It  is  a  bad  plan 
to  change  about  in  this  style." 

''I  was  expelled  from  my  situation  on  a  foul  and  most  un- 
just accusation.     I  am  seeking  employment  from  necessity." 

"  Expelled  is  a  dark  word,  Aubrey  ;  it  will  hardly  act  as  a 
passport  to  futui'e  situations.  Expelled  clerks  are  not  in  de- 
mand." 

"  Still,  I  must  state  the  truth  unreservedly." 

"  Let's  hear  the  whole  business,  sit  down." 

Without  hesitation  he  narrated  all  the  circumstances,  once  or 
twice  pausing  to  still  the  tempest  of  passion  that  flashed  from 
his  eyes.  While  he  spoke,  Mr.  Campbell's  keen  eyes  searched 
him  from  head  to  foot,  and  at  the  conclusion  he  asked  sharply  : 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  39 

"  Where  is  the  watch,  do  you  suppose  ?'^ 

"  Heaven  only  kno.ws.  I  have  a  suspicion,  but  no  right  to 
utter  it,  since  I  might  thereby  inflict  a  wrong  equal  to  that  from 
which  I  now  suffer." 

"  It  is  a  dark  piece  of  business  as  it  stands." 

"  Yes,  but  time  will  clear  it  up." 

"  See  here,  Aubrey,  I  have  noticed  you  two  or  three  times  in 
the  court-house  listening  to  some  of  my  harangues.  I  knew 
your  father,  and  I  should  like  to  help  you.  It  seems  to  me  you 
might  make  better  use  of  your  talents  than  you  are  doing.  And 
yet,  if  you  rise  it  will  l:>e  over  greater  obstacles  than  most  men 
surmount.     Do  you  understand  me  ?" 

*'  I  do  ;  for  I  am  too  painfully  aware  of  the  prejudice  against 
which  I  have  to  contend.  But  if  I  live,  I  shall  lift  myself  out  of 
this  pool  where  malice  and  hate  have  thrust  me." 

"  What  do  you  propose  to  do  ?" 

''  Work  at  the  plough  or  before  the  anvil,  if  nothing  else  can 
be  done  to  support  my  mother  and  cousin  ;  and  as  soon  as  I 
possibly  can  study  law.  This  is  my  j^lan,  and  for  two  years  I 
have  been  pursuing  my  Latin  and  Greek  with  an  eye  to  accom- 
plishing the  scheme." 

"I  see  fate  has  thumped  none  of  your  original  obstinacy  out 
of  you.  Aubrey,  suppose  I  shut  my  eyes  to  the  watch  trans- 
action, and  take  you  into  my  office  ?" 

"  If  so,  I  shall  do  my  duty  faithfully.  But  you  said  you  did 
not  need  any  one  here,  and  though  I  am  anxious  to  find  work,  I 
do  not  expect  or  desire  to  be  taken  in  from  charity.  I  intend 
to  earn  my  wages,  sir,  and  from  your  own  account  I  should 
judge  you  had  very  little  use  for  an  assistant." 

"  Humph  I  a  bountiful  share  of  pride  along  with  prodigious 
obstinacy.  Though  I  am  a  lawyer,  I  told  you  the  truth  ;  I  have 
no  earthly  use  for  such  assistants  as  I  have  been  plagued  with 
for  several  years.  In  the  main,  office-boys  are  a  nuisance,  com- 
I)arable  only  to  the  locusts  of  Egypt ;  I  washed  my  hands  of 
the  whole  tribe  months  since.  Now,  I  have  a  negro  to  attend 
to  my  office,  make  fires,  etc.,  and  if  I  could  only  get  an  intelli- 


4:0  MACAEIA  ;    OR 


g-ent,  ambitious,  honorable,  trustworthy  young  man,  he  would 
be  a  help  to  me.  I  had  despaired  of  finding  such,  but,  on  the 
whole,  I  rather  like  you  ;  believe  you  can  suit  me  exactly  if  you 
will,  and  I  am  disposed  to  give  you  a  trial.  Sit  down  here  and 
copy  this  paragraph  ;  let  me  see  what  sort  of  hieroglyphics  I 
shall  have  to  decipher  if  I  make  you  my  copyist." 

Russell  silently  complied,  and  after  a  careful  examination  it 
seemed  the  chirography  was  satisfactory. 

"  Look  there,  Aubrey,  does  that  array  frighten  you  ?" 
He  pointed  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  room,  where  legal  doc- 
uments of  every  shape  and  size  were  piled  knee-deep  for  several 
yards. 

"  They  look  formidable,  sir,  but  nothing  would  afford  me 
more  pleasure  than  to  fathom  their  mysteries. 

"  And  what  security  can  you  give  me  that  the  instant  my 
back  is  turned  you  will  not  quit  my  work  and  go  off  to  my  books 
yonder,  which  I  notice  you  have  been  eying  very  greedily  ?" 

"  Xo  security,  sir,  but  the  promise  of  an  honest  soul  to  do  its 
work  faithfully  and  untiringly.  Mr.  Campbell,  I  understand  my 
position  thoroughly  ;  I  know  only  too  well  that  I  have  every- 
thing to  make,  an  honorable  name,  an  unblemished  reputation, 
and,  relying  only  on  myself,  I  expect  to  help  myself.  If  you 
really  need  an  assistant,  and  think  me  trust-worthy,  I  will  be 
very  glad  to  serve  you,  and  shall  merit  your  confidence.  I  come 
to  you  under  adverse  circumstances,  with  a  tarnished  character, 
and  of  course  you  feel  some  hesitancy  in  employing  me.  I  have 
concealed  nothing  ;  you  are  acquainted  with  all  the  facts,  and 
must  decide  accordingly." 

There  was  nothing  pleading  in  his  tone  or  mien,  but  a  proud, 
desperate  calmness,  unusual  in  one  of  his  age.  When  a  truly 
honest,  noble  soul  meets  an  equal,  barriers  of  position  and  age 
melt  like  snow-flakes  in  sunshine,  all  extraneous  circumstances 
fall  away,  and,  divested  of  pomp  or  rags,  as  the  case  may  be,  the 
full,  undunmed  majesty  of  spirit  greets  spirit,  and  clear-eyed  sym- 
pathy, soaring  above  the  dross  and  dust  of  worldly  conventional- 
ities, knit  them  in  bonds  lastinor  as  time.     Looking  into  the  reso- 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  41 

lute  yet  melancholy  face  before  hino,  the  lawyer  forgot  the  pov- 
erty and  disgrace  clinging  to  his  name,  and  leaning  forward 
grasped  his  hand. 

"  Aubrey,  you  and  I  can  work  peaceably  together  ;  I  value 
your  candor,  I  like  your  resolution.  Come  to  me  on  Monday, 
and  in  the  matter  of  salary  you  shall  find  me  liberal  enough.  I 
think  you  told  me  you  had  a  cousin  as  well  as  your  mother  to 
sui)port  ;  I  shall  not  forget  it.  Now,  good-morning,  and  leave 
me  unless  you  desire  to  accumulate  work  for  yourself." 

People  called  Mr.  Campbell  "miserly,"  " egotistic,"  and  "self- 
ish." These  are  harsh  adjectives,  and  the  public  frequently  a}> 
plies  them  with  culpable  haste  and  uncharitableness,  for  there  is 
an  astonishing  proclivity  m  human  nature  to  detract,  to  carp,  to 
spy  out,  and  magnify  faults.  If  at  all  prone  to  generous  deeds, 
Mr.  Campbell  certainly  failed  to  placard  them  in  public  places  ; 
he  had  never  given  any  large  amount  to  any  particular  church, 
institution,  or  society,  but  the  few  who  knew  him  well  indignant- 
ly denied  the  charge  of  penuriousness  preferred  by  the  communi- 
ty. A  most  unsafe  criterion  is  public  estimation  ;  it  canonizes 
many  an  arch-hypocrite,  and  martyrs  many  a  saint. 


CHAPTER   lY. 

From  early  childhood  Irene  had  experienced  a  sensation  of 
loneliness.  Doubtless  the  loss  of  her  mother  enhanced  this  feel- 
ing, but  the  peculiarity  of  her  mental  organization  would  have 
necessitated  it  even  under  happier  auspices.  Her  intellect  was 
of  the  masculine  order,  acute  and  logical,  rather  deficient  in  the 
imaginative  faculties,  but  keenly  analytical.  It  is  an  old  predi- 
cate that  women  are  deductionists,  that  womanly  intuitions  are 
swift  and  infallible.  In  richly-endowed  female  minds  it  not  un- 
frequently  happens  that  tedious,  reflective  processes  are  ignored  ; 
but  Irene  was  a  patient  rather  than  brilliant  thinker,  and  with 
singular  perseverance  searched  every  nook  and  cranny,  and  sifted 


42  MACARTA  ;    OR, 

every  phase  of  the  subject  presented  for  investigation.  Her  con- 
clusions were  never  hasty,  and  consequently  rarely  unsound. 
From  tlie  time  her  baby-finger?  first  grasped  a  primer,  she  be- 
came a  student  ;  dolls  and  toys,  such  as  constitute  the  happiness 
of  most  children,  had  never  possessed  any  attraction  for  her,  and 
before  she  was  eight  years  old  she  made  the  library  her  favorite 
resort.  She  would  climb  upon  the  morocco-covered  table  where 
stood  two  globes,  one  celestial,  the  other  terrestrial,  and  spend 
hours  in  deciphering  the  strange,  heathenish  figures  twined  among 
the  stars.  When  weary  of  studying  the  index  of  the  thermome- 
ter and  barometer,  and  wondering  why  the  quicksilver  varied 
with  sunshine  and  shower,  she  would  throw  herself  down  on  the 
floor  and  fall  asleep  over  the  quaint  pictures  in  an  old  English 
encyclopaedia,  numbering  thirty  volumes.  She  haunted  this 
room,  and  grew  up  among  books  centuries  old.  Thus  until  her 
tenth  year  there  was  no  authority  exerted  over  her,  and  the 
strong,  reflective  tendency  of  her  mind  rapidly  developed  itself. 
This  was  an  abnormal  condition,  and  indisputably  an  unfortunate 
training,  and  perhaps  in  after  years  it  might  have  been  better 
had  she  spent  the  season  of  careless,  thoughtless  childhood  in 
childish  sports  and  childhood's  wonted  ways,  for  anxious  inquiry 
and  tedious  investigations  come  soon  enough  with  maturity. 

She  was  not  an  enthusiastic,  impulsive  nature,  fitful  in  moodi- 
ness or  ecstacy,  inclined  to  passionate  demonstrations  of  any 
kind  ;  but  from  infancy  evinced  a  calm,  equable  temperament, 
uniformly  generous  and  unselfish,  but  most  thoroughly  firm,  nay 
obstinate,  in  any  matter  involving  principle,  or  conflicting  with 
her  opinions  of  propriety.  How  she  obtained  these  notions  of 
right  and  wrong  in  minor  details,  was  a  subject  of  some  mystery. 
They  were  not  the  result  of  education  in  the  ordinary  accepta- 
tion of  that  term,  for  they  had  never  been  instilled  by  anybody  ; 
and  like  a  wood-flower  in  some  secluded  spot,  she  lived,  grew, 
and  expanded  her  nature,  without  any  influences  to  bias  or  color 
her  views.  In  her  promiscuous  reading  she  was  quite  as  apt  to 
imbibe  poisonous  as  healthy  sentiments,  and  knowing  that  she  bad 
been  blessed  with  few  religious  instructions,  her  father  often 
wondered  at  the  rigidness  of  her  code  for  self-regulation.      Miss 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  43 

Margaret  considered  lier  "  a  strange  little  thing,"  and  rarely  in- 
terfered with  her  plans  in  any  respect,  while  her  father  seemed  to 
take  it  for  granted  that  she  required  no  looking  after.     Tie  knew 
that  her  beauty  was  extraordinary  ;  he  was  proud  of  the  fact  ; 
and  having  provided  her  with  a  good  music  master,  and  sent  her 
to  the  best  school  in  the  connty,  he  left  her  to  employ  her  leisure 
as  inclination  prompted.      Occasionally  her  will  conflicted  with 
his,  and  more  than  once  he  found  it  impossible  to  make  her  yield 
assent  to  his  wishes.     To  the  outward  observances  of  obedience 
and   respect    she   submitted,    but   whenever    these    differences 
occurred  he  felt  that  m  the  end  she  was  unconquered.     Incon- 
sistent as  it  may  appear,  though  fretted  for  the  time  by  her 
firmness,  he  loved  her  the  more  for  her  "  wilfulness,"  as  he  termed 
it  ;  and  despotic  and  exacting  though  he  certainly  was  in  many 
respects,  he  stood  somewhat  in  awe  of  his  pure-hearted,  calm- 
eyed  child.     His  ward  and  nephew,  Hugh  Seymour,  had  resided 
with  him  for.  several  years,  and  it  w^as  well-known  that  Mr. 
Huntingdon  had  pledged  his  daughter's  hand  to  his  sister's  son. 
The  age  of  infant  betrothals  has  passed  away,  consequently  this 
rare  instance  gave  rise  to  a  deal  of  gossiping  comment.     How 
the  matter  became  public  he  never  knew  ;  probably  Sparrow- 
grasse's  "  carrier  pigeon"  migrated  southward,  for  it  is  now  no 
uncommon  thing  to  find  one  in  our  cities  and  country  towns  ; 
and  at  all  events  Mr.  Huntingdon  soon  fomid  that  his  private 
domestic  affairs  were  made  an  ordinary  topic  of  conversation  in 
social  circles.     Irene  had  never  be^n  officially  apprised  of  her 
destiny,  but  surmised  very  accurately  the  true  state  of  the  case. 
Between  the  two  cousins  there  existed  not  the  sli"-htest  con^-eni- 
ality  of  taste  or  disposition  ;  not  a  sympathetic  link,  save  the  tie 
of  relationship.     On  her  part  there  w^as  a  moderate  share  of 
cousinly  affection  ;  on  his,  as  much  love  and  tenderness  as  his 
seliisli  nature  was  capable  of  feeling.     They  rarely  quarrelled  as 
most  children  do,  for  when  (as  frequently  happened)  he  flew  into 
a  rage  and  tried  to  tyrannize,  she  scorned  to  retort  in.  any  way, 
and  generally  locked  him  out  of  the  library.     What  she  thought 
of  her  father's  intentions  concerning  herself,  no  one  knew  ;  she 
never  alluded  to  the  subject,  and  if  in  a  frolicsome  mood  Hugh 


44  MACAEIA  ;    OR, 

broached  it, -she  invariably  cut  the  discussion  short.      When  he 
went  to  college  in  a  distant  state,  she  felt  infinitely  relieved,  and 
during  his  vacations  secluded  herself  as  much  as  possible.     Yet 
the  girl's  heart  was  warm  and  clinging  ;  she  loved  her  father  de- 
votedly, and  loved  most  intensely  Electra  Grey,  whom  she  had 
first  met  at  school.     They  were  nearly  the  same  age,  classmates, 
and  firm  friends.     That  she  was  beautiful,  Irene  of  course  knew 
quite  as  well  as  her  father  or  any  one  else  ;  how  could  she  avoid 
knowing  it  ?      From  her  cradle  she  had  been  called  ''  Queen" 
and  "  Beauty  ;"  all  her  acquaintances  flattered  her — strangers 
commented  on  her  loveliness  ;  she  no  more  doubted  it  than  the 
fact  of  her  existence,  and  often  stopped  before  the  large  parlor 
mirrors  and  admired  her  own  image,  just  as  she  would  have  ex- 
amined and  admired  and  enjoyed  one  of  the  elegant  azaleas  or 
pelargoniums  in  the  greenhouse.      I  repeat  it,  she  prized  and 
enjoyed  her  loveliness,  but  she  was  not  vain.     She  was  no  more 
spoiled  by  adulation  than  a  meek  and  snowy  camelia,  or  one  of 
those  immense  golden-eyed  pansies  which  astouisli  and  delight 
visitors  at  the  hot-houses  on  Long  Island.      God  conferred  mar- 
vellous beauty  on  her,  and  she  was  grateful  for  the  gift — but  to 
the  miserable  weaknesses  of  vanity,  she  was  a  stranger.      In  the 
midst  of  books  and  flowers  she  was  happy,  and  seemed  to  desire 
no  companions  but  Erebus  and  Paragon.      She  rode  every  day 
when  the  weather  permitted,  and  the  jetty  horse  with  its  grace- 
ful young  rider,  followed  by  the  slender,  silky  greyhound,  was  a 
femiliar  spectacle  in  the  vicinity  of  her  home.      She  knew  every 
hill  and  valley  within  ten  miles  of  the  town  ;  could  tell  where 
the  richest,  rarest  honeysuckles  grew,  where  the  yellow  jasmine 
clambered  in  greatest  profusion,  and  always  found  the  earhest 
sprays  of  graybeard  that  powdered  the  forest.     Often  Mr.  Hunt- 
ingdon had  ordered  his  horse,  and  gone  out  in  the  dusky  twihght 
to  search  for  her,  fearing  that  some  disaster  had  overtaken  his 
darling  ;  and  at  such  times  met  Erebus  laden  with  her  favorite 
flowers.     These  were  the  things  she  loved,  and  thus  independent 
of  society,  yet  conscious  of  her  isolation,  she  grew  up  what  nature 
intended  her  to  be.      As  totally  different  in  character  as  appear- 
ance was  Electra  Grey.     Rather  smaller  and  much  thinner  than 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  45 

TiTiie,  with  shining,  purjilish  black  haii-,  large,  sad,  searching 
black  eyes,  from  which  there  was  no  escape,  a  pale  olive  com- 
plexion, and  full  crimson  lips  that  rarely  smiled.  The  forehead 
was  broad  and  prominent,  and  rendered  very  peculiar  bv  the  re- 
markable widtli  between  the  linely-arched  brows.  The  serene 
purity  characteristic  of  Irene's  features  was  entirely  wanting  in 
this  i\ice,  which  would  have  seemed  Jewish  in  its  contour  but  for 
tlie  Grecian  nose  ;  and  the  melaiK^holy  yet  fascinating  eyes 
haunted  the  beholder  with  their  restless,  wistful,  far-reaching  ex- 
pression. Electra  was  a  dreamer,  richly  gifted  ;  dissatisfied  be- 
cause she  could  never  attain  that  unreal  world  which  her  busy 
brain  kept  constantly  before  her.  The  child  of  genius  is  rarely, 
if  ever,  a  happy  one — 

"  Heaven  lies  about  us  in  our  infancy." 

If  so,  its  recollections  chng  tenaciously  to  those  who,  like  Elec- 
tra, seek  continually  for  the  airy  castles  of  an  ideal  realm.  Her 
vivid  imagination  shaped  and  painted,  but,  as  too  often  happens, 
her  eager  blood  and  bone  fingers  could  not  grasp  the  glories. 
The  thousand  cares,  hardships,  and  rough  handlings  of  reality 
struck  cold  and  jarring  on  her  sensitive,  highly-strung  nature. 
Slie  did  not  complain  ;  murmuring  words  had  never  crossed  her 
lips  in  the  hearing  of  any  one  who  knew  her  ;  she  loved  her  aunt 
too  well  to  speak  of  sorrow  or  disappointment.  Fourteen  years 
had  taught  her  an  unusual  amount  of  stoicism,  but  sealed  lips 
can  not  sepulchre  grief,  and  trials  have  a  language  which  will 
not  be  repressed  when  the  mouth  is  at  rest.  She  looked  not 
gloomy,  nor  yet  quite  unhappy,  but  like  one  who  sees  obstacles 
mountain-high  loom  between  her  and  the  destined  goal,  and  asks 
only  permission  to  press  on.  Hers  was  a  passionate  nature  ; 
fierce  blood  beat  in  her  veins,  and  would  not  always  be  bound  by 
icy  fetters.  There  w^as  no  serene  plateau  of  feeling  where  she 
could  repose  ;  she  enjoyed  keenly,  rapturously,  and  suffered 
acutely,  fearfuUy.  Unfortunately  for  her,  she  had  only  Himal- 
ayan solitudes,  sublime  in  their  dazzling  height,  or  valleys  of 
Tophet,  appalling  with  flame  and  phantom.  She  knew  wherein 
she  was  gifted,  she  saw  whither  her  narrow  pathway  led,  and 


46  MAOAEIA  ;    OR, 

panted  to   set  her  little  feet  in  the  direction  of  the  towering 
steeps  crowned  with  the  temple  of  art.     To  be  an  artist  ;  to  put 
on  canvas  the  grand  and  imperishable  images  that  crowded  her 
brain,  and  almost  maddened  her  because  she  could  not  give  them 
tangible  form  ;  this  was  the  day-dreani  spanning  her  life  like  a 
bow  of  promise,  but  fading  slowly  as  years  thickened  o'er  her 
head,  and  no  helping  hand  cleared  the  choked  path.     "  Poyerty  ! 
poverty  !"     Many  a  night  she  buried  her  face  under  the  pillow, 
and  hissed  the  word  through  closed  teeth,  fearful  of  disturbing 
the    aunt,    who    slumbered    at   her   side.     Poverty  !    poverty ! 
What  an  mtolerable  chain  it  binds  around  aspiring  souls  !     And 
yet  the  world's  great  thinkers  have  felt  this  iron  in  their  flesh, 
and,  bursting  the  galling  bonds,  have  carved  their  way  to  emi- 
nence, to  immortality.     It  is  a  lamentable  and  significant  truth 
that,  with  a  few   honorable,  noble    exceptions,  wealth   is   the 
Cannae  of  American  intellect.     Poverty  is  a  rigid  school,  and  the 
sessions  are  long  and  bitter  ;    but  the  men   and  women  who 
graduate  therein  come  forth  with  physical  frames  capable  of  en- 
during all  hardships,  with  hearts  habituated  to  disappointment 
and  fortified  against  the  rebuffs  of  fortune,  with  intellects  trained 
by  patient,  laborious,  unbending  application.     The  tenderly-nur- 
tured child  of  wealth  and  luxury  very  naturally  and  reasonably 
shrinks  from  difficulties  ;  but  increase  the  obstacles  in  the  path 
of  a  son  or  daughter  of  penury,  inured  to  trial,  and  in  the  same 
ratio  you  strengthen  his  or  her  ability  and  determuiation  to  sur- 
mount them. 

Electra's  love  of  drawing  had  early  displayed  itself ;  first,  in 
strange,  weird  figures  on  her  slate,  then  in  her  copy-book,  on 
every  slip  of  paper  which  she  could  lay  her  hands  upon  ;  and, 
finally,  for  want  of  more  suitable  material,  she  scrawled  all  over 
the  walls  of  the  Uttle  l^ed-room,  to  the  great  horror  of  her  aunt, 
who  spread  a  coat  of  whitewash  over  the  child's  frescos,  and 
wegged  her  to  be  guilty  of  no  such  conduct  in  future,  as  Mr. 
Clark  might  with  great  justice  sue  for  damages.  In  utter  hu- 
miliation, Electra  retreated  to  the  garden,  and  here,  after  a 
shower  had  left  the  sandy  walks  white  and  smooth,  she  would 
sharpen  a  bit  of  pine,  and  draw  figures  and  faces  of  all  conceiva- 


ALTAES    OF    SACRIFICE.  47 

ble  and  inconceivable  sliapes.  Chancing  to  find  her  thus  en- 
gaged one  Sunday  afternoon,  Russell  supplied  her  with  a  package 
of  drawing-paper  and  pencils.  So  long  as  these  lasted  she  was 
perfectly  hajipy,  but  unluckily  their  straightened  circumstances 
admitted  of  no  such  expenditure,  and  before  many  -weeks  she  was 
again  without  materials.  She  would  not  tell  Russell  that  she 
had  exhausted  his  package,  and  passed  sleepless  nights  trying  to 
devise  some  method  by  w^hich  she  could  aid  herself.  It  was 
l)Ositive  torture  for  her  to  sit  in  school  and  see  the  drawing- 
master  go  round,  giving  lessons  on  this  side  and  that,  skipping 
over  her  every  time,  because  her  aunt  could  not  afford  the  extra 
three  dollars.  How  longingly  the  eyes  followed  the  master's 
form,  how  hungrily  they  dwelt  upon  the  sketches  he  leaned  over 
to  examine  and  retouch  ?  Frequently  during  drawing-hour  she 
would  sit  with  her  head  bent  down  pretending  to  study,  but  the 
pages  of  the  book  were  generally  blistered  with  tears,  which  no 
eye  but  the  Father's  looked  upon.  There  w^as,  however,  one  en- 
joyment which  nothing  could  steal  from  her  ;  the  town  contained 
two  book-stores,  and  here  she  was  wont  to  linger  over  the  numer- 
ous engravings  and  occasional  oil  paintings  they  boasted.  The 
proprietors  and  clerks  seemed  rather  pleased  than  otherwise  by 
the  silent  homage  she  paid  their  pictures,  and,  except  to  tender 
her  a  seat,  no  one  ever  interfered  w^ith  her  examinations.  One 
engraving  interested  her  particularly  ;  it  represented  St.  John 
on  Patmos,  writing  Revelations.  She  went  as  usual  one  Satur- 
day morning  for  another  look  at  it,  but  a  different  design  hung 
in  its  place  ;  she  glanced  around,  and  surmising  the  object  of  her 
search,  the  proprietor  told  her  it  had  been  sold  the  day  before. 
An  expression  of  sorrow  crossed  her  face,  as  though  she  had  sus- 
tained an  irreparable  loss,  and,  drawing  her  bonnet  dowai,  she 
went  slowly  homeward.  Amid  all  these  yearnings  and  aspira- 
tions she  turned  constantly  to  Russell,  with  a  w^orshiping  love 
that  knew  no  bounds.  She  loved  her  meek,  affectionate  aunt  as 
well  as  most  natures  love  their  mothers,  and  did  all  in  her  power 
to  lighten  her  labors,  but  her  affection  for  Russell  bordered  on 
adoration.  In  a  character  so  exacting  and  passionate  as  hers 
there  is  necessarily  much  of  jealousy,  and  thus  it  came  to  pass 


48  MACARIA  ;    OE, 

that,  on  the  day  of  Irene's  visit  to  the  cottage,  the  horrible  sus- 
picion took  possession  of  lier  that  he  loved  Irene  better  than  her- 
self. True,  she  was  very  young,  but  childish  hearts  feel  as 
keenly  as  those  of  maturer  years  ;  and  Electra  endured  more 
agony  during  that  day  than  in  all  her  past  life.  Had  Irene  been 
other  than  she  was,  in  every  respect,  she  would  probably  have 
hated  her  cordially  ;  as  matters  stood,  she  bm'ied  the  suspicion 
deep  in  her  own  heart,  and  kept  as  much  out  of  everybody's  way 
as  possible.  Days  and  weeks  passed  very  wearily  ;  she  busied 
herself  with  her  text-books,  and,  when  the  lessons  had  been  re- 
cited, drew  all  over  the  margins — here  a  hand,  there  an  entii'e 
arm,  now  and  then  a  face,  sad-eyed  as  Fate. 

ilrs.  Aubrey's  eye  became  so  blurred  that  finally  she  could 
not  leave  the  house  without  having  some  one  to  guide  her,  and, 
as  cold  weather  had  now  arrived,  preparations  were  made  for 
her  journey.     Mr.  Hill,  who  was  going  to  New  Orleans,  kindly 
offered  to  take  charge  of  her,  and  the  day  of  departure  was 
fixed.     Electra  packed  the  little  trunk,  saw  it  deposited  on  the 
top  of  the  stage,  in  the  dawn  of  an  October  morning  saw  her 
aunt  comfortably  seated  beside  Mr.  Hill,  and  in  another  moment 
all  had  vanished.     In  the  afternoon  of  that  day,  on  returning 
from  school,  Electra  went  to  the  bureau,  and,  unlocking  a  draw- 
er, took  out  a  small  paper  box.     It  contained  a  miniature  of  her 
father,  set  in  a  handsome  gold  frame.     She  knew  it  had  been 
her  mother's  most  valued  trinket  ;  her  aunt  had  carefully  kept 
it  for  her,  and  as  often  as  the  temptation  assailed  her  she  had 
resisted  ;  but  now  the  longing  for  money  triumphed  over  every 
other  feeling.     Having  touched  the  spring,  she  took  a  knife  and 
cautiously  removed  the  bit  of  ivory  beneath  the  glass,  then  de- 
posited the  two  last  in   the   box,  put   the  gold  frame  in   her 
pocket,  and  went   out  to  a  jewelery  store.     As  several  persons 
had  preceded  her,  she  leaned  against  the  counter,  and,  while 
waiting,  watched  with  some  curiosity,  the  movements  of  one  of 
the  goldsmiths,  who,  with  a  glass  over  one  eye,  was  engaged  in 
repairing  watches.     Some  had  been  taken  from  the  cases,  others 
were  untouched  ;  a3sA.  as  her  eyes  passed  swiftly  over  the  latter, 
they  were  suddenly  riveted  to  a  massive  gold  one  lying  some- 


ALTAKS    OF    SACRIFICE.  49 

what  npart.  A  lialf-smotliered  exclamation  caused  the  work- 
maa  to  turn  round  and  look  at  her,  but  in  an  instant  she  calmed 
herself,  and  thinking  it  a  mere  outbreak  of  impatience,  he  re- 
sumed his  employment.  Just  then  one  of  the  proprietors  ap- 
proached, and  said  politely,  "  I  am  sorry  we  have  kept  you 
waiting,  miss.     What  can  I  do  for  you  ?" 

"  What  is  this  worth  ?" 

She  laid  the  locket  down  on  the  counter,  and  looked  up  with 
eyes  that  sparkled  very  joyously  he  thought.  He  examined  it 
a  moment,  and  said  rather  dryly  : 

"It  is  worth  little  or  nothing  to  us,  though  you  may  prize 
it." 

"  If  I  were  to  buy  another  just  like  it,  would  you  charge  me 
'  little  or  nothing  V  " 

He  smiled  good-humoredly. 

"  Buying  and  selling  are  different  things,  don't  you  know 
that  ?     Come,  tell  me  what  you  want  to  sell  this  for  ?" 

"  Because  I  want  some  money." 

"  You  are  Mrs.  Aubrey's  niece,  I  believe  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Well,  how  do  I  know,  in  the  first  place,  that  it  belongs  to 
you  ?  Jewellers  have  to  be  very  particular  about  what  they 
buy." 

She  crimsoned,  and  drew  herself  proudly  away  from  the  coun- 
ter, then  smiled  and  held  out  her  hand  for  the  locket. 

''  It  is  mine  ;  it  held  my  father's  miniature,  but  I  took  it  out 
because  I  want  a  paint-box,  and  thought  I  could  sell  this  case 
for  enough  to  buy  one.  It  was  my  mother's  once  ;  here  are  her 
initials  on  the  back,  H.  G.  Harriet  Grey.  But  of  course  you 
don't  know  whether  I  am  telHng  the  truth  ;  I  will  bring  my 
cousin  with  me,  he  can  prove  it.  Sir,  are  you  so  particular 
about  everything  you  buy  ?" 

"  We  try  to  be.". 

Again  her  eye^  sparkled  ;  she  bowed,  and  left  the  store. 

Once  in  the  street,  she  hurried  to  Mr.  Campbell's  office,  ran 
up  the  steps,  and  rapped  loudly  at  the  do^*. 

*'  Come  in  1"  thundered  the  lawyer. 

3' 


50  MACARIA  ;    OK, 

She  stopped  on  the  threshold,  glanced  round,  and  said  tim- 
idly : 

"  I  want  to  see  Russell,  if  you  please." 

"  Russell  is  at  the  post-ofnce.  Have  you  any  particular  spite 
at  my  door,  that  you  belabor  it  in  that  style  ?  or  do  you  suppose 
I  am  as  deaf  as  a  gate-post  ?" 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  ;  I  did  not  mean  to  startle  you,  sir.  I 
was  not  thinking  of  either  you  or  your  door." 

She  sprang  down  the  steps  to  wait  on  the  sidewalk  for  her 
cousin,  and  met  him  at  the  entrance. 

"  Oh,  Russell  !  I  have  found  your  watch." 

A  ray  of  light  seemed  to  leap  from  his  eyes  as  he  seized  her 
hand. 

"  Where  ?" 

"  At  Mr.  Brown's  jewelry  store." 

"  Thank  God  !" 

He  went  up  tlie  stairway,  delivered  the  letters,  and  came  back, 
accompanied  by  Mr.  Campbell. 

"  This  is  my  cousin,  Electra  Gray,  Mr.  Campbell." 

"So  I  inferred  from  the  unceremonious  assault  she  made  on 
my  door  just  now.  However,  shake  hands,  little  lady  ;  it  seems 
there  is  some  reason  for  your  haste.  Let's  hear  about  this  pre- 
cious watch  business." 

She  simply  told  what  she  had  seen.     Presently  Russell  said  : 

"  But  how  did  you  happen  there,  Electra  ?" 

"Your  good  angel  seni  me,  I  suppose  ;  and,"  she  added  in  a 
whisper,  "  I  will  tell  you  some  other  time." 

On  re-entering  the  store,  she  walked  at  once  to  the  workman's 
corner,  and  pointed  out  the  watch. 

"  Yes,  it  is  mine.     I  would  know  it  among  a  thousand." 

"  How  can  you  identify  it,  Aubrey  ?" 

He  immediately  gave  the  number,  and  name  of  the  manufac- 
turer, and  described  the  interior  tracery,  not  omitting  the  quan- 
tity of  jewels.  Mr.  Campbell  turned  to  the  proprietor  (the  same 
gentleman  with  whom  Electra  had  conversed),  and  briefly  reca- 
pitulated the  circumstances  which  had  occurred  in  connection 
with  the  watch.     Mr.  Brown  listened  attentively,  then  requested 


•    ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  51 

Kussell  to  point  out  tlic  })artieiilar  one  that  resembled  his.  He 
did  so,  and  on  examination,  the  nnmbcr,  date,  name,  and  all  the 
marks  corresponded  so  exactly  that  no  doubt  remained  on  the 
jeweller's  mind. 

"  Young  man,  you  say  you  were  accused  of  stealing  your  own 
watch?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  I  will  try  to  clear  your  name.  This  watch  was 
brought  here  several  weeks  since,  while  I  was  absent.  I  am  very 
guarded  in  such  matters,  and  require  my  young  men  here  to  take 
a  certificate  of  the  name  and  place  of  residence  of  all  strangers 
who  offer  articles  for  sale  or  exchange.  I  once  very  innocently 
bought  some  stolen  property,  and  it  taught  me  a  lesson.  This 
watch  was  sold  for  ninety  dollars  by  a  man  named  Rufus  Tur- 
ner, who  lives  in  New  Orleans,   No.  240  street.     I  will 

write  to  him  at  once,  and  find  out,  if  possible,  how  it  came  into 
his  possession.  I  rather  think  he  had  some  horses  here  for 
sale." 

"  Did  he  wear  green  glasses  ?"  inquired  Russell  of  the  young 
man  who  had  purchased  the  watch. 

"  Yes,  and  had  one  arm  in  a  sling." 

"  I  saw  such  a  man  here  about  the  time  my  watch  was  miss- 
ing." 

After  some  directions  from  Mr.  Campbell  concerning  the  pro- 
per course  to  be  pursued,  Electra  drew  out  her  locket,  saying — 

"  Now,  Russell,  is  not  this  locket  mine  ?" 

*'  Yes  ;  but  where  is  the  miniature  ?  What  are  you  going  to 
do  with  it  ?" 

"  The  miniature  is  at  home,  but  I  Avant  to  sell  the  frame,  and 
Mr.  Brown  does  not  know  but  that  it  is  another  watch  case." 

"If  it  is  necessary,  I  will  swear  that  it  belongs  lawfully  to 
you  ;  but  what  do  you  want  to  sell  it  for  ?  I  should  think  you 
would  prize  it  too  highly  to  be  willing  to  part  wnth  it." 

"  I  do  prize  the  miniature,  and  would  not  part  with  it  for  any 
consideration  ;  but  I  want  something  far  more  than  a  gold  caso 
to  keep  it  in." 


52  MACARTA  ;    OK, 

"  Tell  me  what  you  want,  and  I  will  get  it  for  you,"  whisper- 
ed her  cousin. 

"  Xo — I  am  GToino;  to  sell  this  frame." 

"  And  I  am  going  to  buy  it  from  you,"  said  the  kind-hearted 
merchant,  taking  it  from  her  hand  and  weighing  it. 

Russell  and  Mr.  Campbell  left  the  store,  and  soon  after  Mr. 
Brown  paid  Elcctra  several  dollars  for  the  locket. 

In  half  an  hour  she  had  purchased  a  small  box  of  paints,  a 
supply  of  drawing-paper  and  pencils,  and  returned  home,  happier 
and  prouder  than  many  an  empress,  whose  jewels  have  equalled 
those  of  the  Be2:ums  of  Oudc.  She  had  cleared  Russell's  cha- 
racter,  and  her  hands  were  pressed  over  her  heart  to  still  its 
rapturous  throbbing.  Ilappy  as  an  uncaged  bird,  she  arranged 
the  tea-table  and  sat  down  to  wait  for  him.  He  came  at  last, 
later  than  usual,  and  then  she  had  her  reward  ;  he  took  her  in 
his  arms  and  kissed  her.  And  yet,  while  his  lip  rested  on  hers, 
Irene's  image  rose  before  her,  and  he  felt  her  shiver  as  she  clung 
to  him.  He  was  her  idol,  and  the  bare  suggestion  of  his  loving 
another  better  chilled  the  blood  in  her  veins.  He  spoke  little  of 
the  watch,  appeared  to  miss  his  mother,  and  soon  went  to  his 
room  and  began  to  study.  How  ignorant  he  was  of  what  passed 
in  his  cousin's  heart  ;  how  little  he  suspected  the  intensity  of  her 
feelings  !  Constantly  occupied  during  the  day,  he  rarely  thought 
of  her  away  from  home  ;  and,  though  always  kind  and  consid- 
erate, he  failed  to  understand  her  nature,  or  fully  appreciate  her 
affection  for  him.  Many  days  elapsed  before  Mr.  Turner's  answer 
arrived.  He  stated  that  he  had  won  the  watch  from  Cecil  Wat- 
son, at  a  horse-rac?,  v/here  both  were  betting  ;  and  proved  the 
correctness  of  his  assertion  by  reference  to  several  persons  who 
were  present,  and  who  resided  in  the  town.  Russell  had  sus- 
pected Cecil  from  the  moment  of  its  disappearance,  and  now, 
provided  with  both  letter  and  watch,  and  accompanied  by  Mr. 
Brown,  he  repaired  to  Mr.  Watson's  store.  Russell  had  been 
insulted,  his  nature  was  st^rn,  and  now  he  exulted  in  the  povrer  of 
disgracing  the  son  of  the  man  who  had  wronged  him.  There  was 
no  flush  on  his  face,  but  a  cold,  triumphant  glitter  in  his  eyes  as 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  53 

lie  nppronolied  liis  formor  cini)loyer,  nnd  laid  watcli  and  letter 
before  liim. 

"  What  business  have  you  here  ?"  growled  the  merchant, 
trembling  before  the  expression  of  the  boy's  countenance. 

"  3Iy  business  is  to  clear  my  character  Avhich  you  have  slan- 
dered, and  to  lix  the  disgrace  you  intended  for  me  on  your  own 
son.     I  bring  you  the  proofs  of  his,  not  my  villainy." 

"  Come  into  the  back-room,  I  will  see  Brown  another  time/' 
said  Watson,  growing  paler  each  moment. 

"  No,  sir  ;  you  were  not  so  secret  in  your  dealings  with  me. 
Here  where  you  insulted  me  you  shall  hear  the  whole  truth. 
Read  tliat.  I  suppose  the  twenty-dollar  gold  piece  followed  the 
watch." 

The  unfortunate  father  perused  the  letter  slowly,  and  smoth- 
ered a  groan,  llussell  watched  him  with  a  keen  joy  which  he 
might  have  blushed  to  acknowledge  had  he  analyzed  his  feelings. 
Writhing  under  his  impaling  eye,  Mr.  Watson  said  : 

"  Have  you  applied  to  the  witnesses  referred  to  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  they  are  ready  to  swear  that  they  saw  Cecil  bet  Tur- 
ner the  watch." 

"  You  did  not  tell  them  the  circumstances,  did  you  ?" 

"  Xo." 

"  Well,  it  is  an  unfortunate  affair  ;  I  want  it  dropped  as  qui- 
etly as  possible.  It  will  never  do  to  have  it  known  far  and 
wide." 

"  Aha  I  you  can  feel  the  sting  now.  But  remember  you  took 
care  to  circulate  the  slander  on  my  name.  I  heard  of  it.  You 
did  not  spare  me,  you  did  not  spare  my  mother  ;  and,  Jacob 
Watson,  neither  will  I  spare  you.  You  never  believed  me  guilty, 
but  you  hated  me  and  gloried  in  an  opportunity  of  injuring  me. 
Do  you  suppose  I  shall  shield  your  unprincipled  son  for  your 
sake  ?  You  showed  me  no  mercy,  you  may  expect  as  Uttle.  The 
story  of  the  watch  shall  make  its  way  wherever  we " 

He  paused  suddenly,  for  the  image  of  his  gentle,  forgiving- 
mother  rose  before  him,  and  he  knew  that  she  would  be  grieved 
at  the  spirit  he  evinced.  There  was  an  awkward  silence,  broken 
by  Mr.  Watson. 


54  MACAETA  ;    OK, 

"  If  I  rotr[*?t  all  that  I  have  said  against  you,  and  avow  your 
innocence,  will  it  satisfy  you  ?    Will  you  be  silent  about  Cecil  ?" 

"No  !''  rose  peremptorily  to  bis  lips,  but  he  checked  it  ;  and 
the  patient  teaching  of  years,  his  mother's  precepts,  and  his  mo- 
ther's prayers  brought  forth  their  first  fruit,  golden  charity. 

"  You  merit  no  forbearance  at  my  hands,  and  I  came  here  in- 
tending to  show  you  none  ;  but,  on  reflection,  I  will  not  follow 
your  example.  Clear  my  name  before  the  public,  and  I  leave 
the  whole  affair  with  you.  There  has  never  been  any  love  be- 
tween us,  because  you  were  always  despotic  and  ungenerous,  but 
I  am  sorry  for  you  now,  for  you  have  taught  me  how  heavy  is 
the  burden  you  have  to  bear  in  future.     Good-morning." 

Afraid  to  trust  himself,  he  turned  away  and  joined  Mr.  Camp- 
bell in  the  office. 

In  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day  came  a  letter  from  Mr.  Hill 
containing  sad  news.  The  oculist  had  operated  on  Mrs.  Au- 
brey's eyes,  but  violent  hiflammation  had  ensued  ;  he  had  done 
all  that  scientific  skill  could  prompt,  but  feared  she  would  be 
hopelessly  blind.  At  the  close  of  the  letter  Mr.  Hill  stated  that 
he  would  bring  her  home  the  following  week.  One  Xovtmber 
evening,  just  before  dark,  while  Russell  was  cutting  wood  for  the 
kitchen-fire,  the  stage  stopped  at  the  cottage-gate,  and  he  hurried 
forward  to  receive  his  mother  in  his  arms.  It  was  a  melancholv 
reunion  ;  for  a  moment  the  poor  sufferer's  fortitude  forsook  her, 
and  she  wept.  But  his  caresses  soothed  her,  and  she  followed 
Electra  into  the  house  while  he  brought  in  the  trunk.  When 
shawl  and  bonnet  had  been  removed,  and  Electra  placed  her  in 
the  rocking-chair,  the  light  fell  on  face  and  figure,  and  the  cou- 
sins started  at  the  change  that  had  taken  place.  She  was  so 
ghastly  pale,  so  very  much  reduced.  She  told  them  all  that  had 
occurred  during  the  tedious  weeks  of  absence  ;  how  much  she 
regretted  having  gone  since  the  trip  proved  so  unsuccessful  ; 
how  much  more  she  deplored  the  affliction  on  their  account  than 
her  own  ;  and  then  from  that  hour  uo  allusion  was  ever  made 
to  it. 


V 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  55 


CITArTER  y. 


Weeks  and  months  slipped  away,  and  total  darkness  came 
down  on  the  widow.  She  groped  with  some  difficnlty  from 
room  to  room,  and  Electra  was  compelled  to  remain  at  home 
and  watch  over  her.  Russell  had  become  a  great  favorite  witli 
his  crusty  employer,  and,  when  the  labors  of  the  office  were  end- 
ed, brought  home  such  books  as  he  needed,  and  spent  his  even- 
ings in  study.  His  powers  of  application  and  endurance  were 
extraordinary,  and  his  progress  was  in  the  same  ratio.  As  he 
became  more  and  more  absorbed  in  these  pursuits  his  reserve  and 
taciturnity  increased,  and  his  habitually  hasty  step  and  abstract- 
ed expression  of  countenance  told  of  a  strong  nature  straining 
its  powers  to  the  utmost  to  attain  some  distant,  glimmering 
goal.  His  employer  was  particularly  impressed  by  the  fact  that 
he  never  volunteered  a  remark  on  any  subject,  and  rarely  opened 
his  lips  except  to  ask  some  necessary  information  in  connection 
with  his  business.  Somethnes  the  silence  of  the  office  was  un- 
broken for  hours,  save  by  the  dull  scratching  of  pens,  or  an  im- 
patient exclamation  from  Mr.  Campbell.  Respectful  in  deport- 
ment, attentive  to  his  duties,  never  presuming  on  kindness,  con- 
stantly at  work  from  morning  until  night,  yet  with  an  unmis- 
takable sorrow  printed  on  his  face — a  sorrow  never  obtruded 
on  any  one,  never  alluded  to — he  won  first  the  rigid  scrutiny  of 
the  lawyer,  then  his  deepest,  most  abiding  affection.  Naturally 
cold  and  undemonstrative  in  manner,  Mr.  Campbell  gave  little 
evidence  of  feeling  of  any  kind,  yet  the  piercing  blue  eye  lost  its 
keenness  when  resting  on  the  tall,  stalwart  form  of  the  clerk,  and 
once  or  twice  the  wrinkled  hand  sought  his  broad  shoulder 
almost  caressingly.  He  had  not  married  ;  had  neither  mother 
nor  sisters  to  keep  his  nature  loving  and  gentle,  and,  though 
he  occasionally  visited  his  brother,  who  was  a  minister  in  the 
same  town,  he  was  held  in  awe  by  the  members  of  that  brother's 
family.  lie  comprehended  Russell's  character,  and  quietly  facili- 
tated his  progress.  There  was  no  sycophancy  on  the  part  of  the 
young  man,  no  patronage  on  that  of  the  employer. 


56  MACARIA  ;    OR, 

• 

One  afternoon  Irene  tapped  lightly  at  the  cottage-door,  and 
entered  tlie  kitchen.  ;\[rs.  Aubrey  sat  iu  a  low  chair  close  to 
the  fireplace,  engaged  in  knitting  ;  her  smooth,  neat  calico  dress 
and  spotless  linen  collar  told  that  careful  liauds  tended  her,  and 
the  soft  auburn  hair  brushed  over  her  temples  showed  broad 
bands  of  gray  as  the  evening  sun  shone  on  it.  She  turned  her 
L'own,  sightless  eyes  toward  the  door,  and  asked  in  a  low  voice  : 

"  A^'ho  is  it  ?"  " 

"  It  is  only  me,  Mrs.  Aubrey." 

Irene  bent  down,  laid  her  two  hands  on  the  widow's,  and 
kissed  her  forehead. 

''  I  am  glad  to  hear  your  voice,  Irene  ;  it  has  been  a  long 
time  since  you  were  here." 

"  Yes,  a  good  many  weeks,  I  know,  but  I  could  not  come." 

"  Are  you  well  ?     Your  hands  and  face  are  cold." 

"  Yes,  thank  you,  very  well.  I  am  always  c  old,  I  believe. 
Hugh  says  I  am.  Here  are  some  flowers  from  the  greenhouse. 
I  brought  them  because  they  arc  so  fragrant  ;  and  here,  too, 
are  a  few  oranges  from  the  same  place.  Hush  !  don't  thank  me, 
if  you  please.  I  wish  I  could  come  here  oftener.  I  always  feel 
better  after  being  with  you  ;  but  I  can't  always  come  when  I 
want  to  do  so." 

''  Why  not,  Irene  ?  " 

"  Oh,  because  of  various  things.  Between  school  and  music, 
and  riding  and  reading,  I  have  very  httle  time  ;  and  besides,  fa- 
ther wants  me  with  him  when  he  is  at  home.  I  play  chess  with 
him,  and  sometimes  we  are  three  or  four  days  finishing  one 
game.  Somehow,  Mrs.  Aubrey,  though  I  don't  mean  to  be  idle, 
it  seems  to  me  that  I  do  very  little.  Every  body  ought  to  be  of 
some  use  in  this  world,  but  I  feel  like  a  bunch  of  mistletoe, 
growing  on  somebody  else,  and  doing  nothing.  I  don't  intend  to 
sit  down  and  hold  my  hands  all  my  life,  but  what  can  I  do  ? 
Pell  me  how  to  begin." 

She  lifted  a  large  tortoise-colored  cat  from  a  small  stool,  and 
drew  it  near  the  hearth,  just  at  the  widow's  feet,  seating  herself, 
and  removing  her  hat. 

"  That  is  more  easily  asked  than   answered  ;  you  are  a  great 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  57 

heiress,  Irene,  and  in  all  hiinian  proV)al)ility  will  never  be  obliged 
to  do  anything.  For  what  is  generally  denominated  work  you 
will  have  no  occasion  ;  1)ut  all  who  wish  to  be  really  happy 
shonld  be  employed  in  some  way.  You  will  not  have  to  labor 
for  your  food  and  clothes,  like  Mr.  Russell  and  Electra  ;  but  you 
will  have  it  in  your  power  to  do  a  vast  deal  more  good.  In 
cultivating  your  mind  do  not  forget  your  heart  ;  it  is  naturally 
full  of  very  generous,  noble  impulses  ;  but  all  human  beings 
have  faults  ;  what  yours  may  be  you  know  best,  and  you  should 
constantly  strive  to  correct  them.  Read  your  Bible,  dear  child  ; 
not  now  and  then,  but  daily  and  prayerfully.  Oh,  Irene  I  I 
have  had  some  bitter,  bitter  sorrows,  and  frequently  I  thought 
that  they  would  crush  out  my  life.  In  those  times  of  trial  if  I 
had  not  ray  Bible  and  my  God,  I  believe  I  should  have  lost  my 
reason.  But  I  read  and  was  comforted.  His  promises  sustain- 
ed me  ;  and  in  looking  back  I  see  many  places  which  should  be 
called  Jehovah  Jlreh,  for  the  Lord  saw  and  provided.  Your 
Bible  will  teach  you  your  duty  much  better  than  I  possibly  can. 
You  owe  your  father  a  great  deal  ;  his  hopes  and  joys  centre  hi 
you,  and  through  life  he  will  look  to  you  for  his  happiness. 
When  you  are  grown,  society,  too,  will  claim  you  ;  you  will  be 
souglit  after  and  flattered  ;  and,  Irene,  under  thene  circumstan- 
ces— with  your  remarkable  beauty  and  wealth — you  will  find  it 
a  difficult  matter  to  avoid  being  spoiled.  Your  influence  will  be 
very  great,  and  a  fearful  responsibility  must  attend  its  employ- 
ment. Let  it  be  for  good.  Try  to  keep  your  heart  free  from 
all  selfish  or  ignoble  feelings  ;  pray  to  God  for  guidance,  that 
you  may  be  enabled  through  His  grace  to  keep  yourself  *  un- 
spotted from  the  world  ; '  those  words  contain  the  whole,  '  un- 
spotted from  the  icorhV  You  have  not  been  spoiled  thus  far 
by  luxury  and  life-long  petting,  and  I  hope  and  believe  that  you 
never  will  be  ;  but  remember,  we  must  be  continually  on  the 
watch  against  temptation.  Irene,  have  I  spoken  too  plainly  ?" 
"  Xo,  I  thank  you  for  your  candor.  I  want  you  to  advise  me 
just  as  you  would  Electra.  I  don't  read  my  Bible  as  often  as  I 
ought,  but  there  are  so  many  things  in  it  which  I  do  not  under- 

3* 


58  MACARTA  ;    OR, 

stand,  that  I  liardly  ever  open  it  no\v.     I  have  nobody  to  ex- 
plain the  difficulties." 

"  It  is  very  clear  on  the  subject  of  our  duty  ;  God  left  not 
the  shadow  of  mystery  in  his  laws  for  the  government  of  the 
heart  and  regulation  of  the  life.  He  commands  us  to  receive 
certain  rnles,  to  practise  certain  principles,  and  to  abstain  from 
certain  sinful  things,  all  of  which  are  specified,  and  not  to  be 
mistaken  by  even  the  most  obtuse.  Melvill  has  said  in  one  of 
his  beautiful  and  comforting  sermons  :  '  God  breathed  himself 
into  the  compositions  of  prophets  and  apostles  and  evangelists, 
and  there,  as  in  the  mystic  recesses  of  an  everlasting  sanctuary, 
he  still  resides,  ready  to  disclose  himself  to  the  humble,  and  to 
be  evoked  by  the  prayerful.  Bat  in  regard  to  erery  other  book, 
however  fraught  it  may  be  with  the  maxims  of  piety,  however 
pregnant  with  momentous  truth,  there  is  nothing  of  this  shrining 
himself  of  Deity  in  the  depths  of  its  meaning.  Men  may  be  in- 
structed by  its  pages,  and  draw  from  them  hope  and  consolation, 
but  never  will  they  find  there  the  burning  Sliekinah  which  pro- 
claims the  actual  presence  of  God  ;  never  hear  a  voice  as  from 
the  solitudes  of  an  oracle  pronounciug  the  words  of  immortality.'  " 

"  How  then  does  it  happen,  Mrs.  Aubrey,  that  different 
churches  teach  such  conflicting  doctrines  ?  Why  are  there  so 
many  denominations  ?  If  the  teachings  of  the  Bible  are  so 
plain,  how  can  such  various  creeds  arise  ?" 

"  Because  poor  human  nature  is  so  full  of  foibles  ;  because 
charity,  the  fundamental  doctrine  of  Christ,  is  almost  lost 
sight  of  by  those  churches  ;  it  has  dwindled  into  a  mere  speck, 
in  comparisou  with  the  trifles  which  they  have  magnified  to 
usurp  its  place.  Instead  of  one  great  Christian  chm'ch,  holding 
the  doctrines  of  the  Xew  Testament,  practising  the  true  spirit 
of  the  Saviour,  and  in  genuine  charity  allowing  its  members  to 
judge  for  themselves  in  the  minor  questions  relating  to  religion  : 
such  for  instance  as  the  mode  of  bajjtism,  the  privilege  of  be- 
lieving presbyters  and  bishops  equal  in  dignity,  or  otherwise,  as 
the  case  may  be,  the  necessity  of  ministers  wearing  sui-plice,  or 
the  contrary,  as  individual  taste  dictates,  we  have  various  deno- 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  59 

minations,  all  erected  to  promulgate  some  particular  dogma,  to 
magnify  and  exalt  as  all-important  some  trifling  difference  in  the 
form  of  church  government.  Once  establisiied,  the  members  of 
each  sect  apply  themselves  to  the  aggrandizement  of  their  pecu- 
liar church  ;  and  tlius  it  comes  to  pass  that  instead  of  one  vast 
brotherhood,  united  against  siu  and  infidelity,  they  are  disgrace- 
fully wrangling  about  sectarian  matters  of  no  consequence 
whatever.  In  all  this  there  is  much  totally  antagonistic  in  the 
principles  inculcated  by  our  Saviour,  who  expressly  denounced 
the  short-sighted  bigotry  of  those  who  magnified  external  ob- 
servances and  non-essentials  at  the  expense  of  the  genuine  spirit 
of  their  religion.  I  wish  most  earnestly  that  these  denomina- 
tional barriers  and  distinctions  could  be  swept  away,  that  the 
names  of  Methodist  and  Episcopal,  Presbyterian  and  Baptist 
could  be  obliterated,  and  that  all  the  members  were  gathered 
harmoniously  into  one  world-wide  pale,  the  Protestant  Church 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ." 

'*  Mrs.  Aubrey,  do  you  belong  to  any  church  ?•' 
"  Yes,  Irene,  because  Christ  founded  a  church,  and  I  think 
every  man  and  woman  sliould  belong  to  some  religious  organiza- 
tion. Moreover,  unless  a  member  of  some  one  of  the  denomi- 
nations, you  can  not  commune  ;  and,  as  the  sacrament  was  par- 
ticularly established  by  our  Saviour,  all  ouglit  to  be  able  to 
partake  of  it.  I  think  it  a  matter  of  little  consequence  which 
of  tlie  evangelical  sects  one  selects.  Do  not  imagine  that  I  be- 
lieve people  can  only  be  saved  by  entrance  into  some  church  ;  I 
think  no  such  thing  ;  the  church  is  a  valuable  instrument,  but 
God  who  established  it  can  work  without  it.  Still,  it  is  very 
reasonable  to  suppose  that  regular  attendance  on  divine  service 
fosters  piety  and  keeps  the  subject  of  our  duty  more  constantly 
before  us." 

She  had  finished  her  knitting,  and  sat  with  her  hands  folded 
in  her  lap — the  meek  face  more  than  usually  serene,  the  sight- 
less eyes  directed  toward  her  visitor.  Sunshine  fleeted  the  bare 
boards  under  the  window,  flashed  on  the  tin' vessels  ranged  on 
the  shelves,  and  lingered  hke  a  halo  around  Irene's  head.  Her 
hair  swept  on  the  floor,  and  the  cat  played  now  and  then  with 


60  MACARIA  ;    OR, 

the  golden  rintrs  so  softly  as  not  to  attract  notice,  as  though 
conscious  the  new  toy  was  precious.  Tlie  countenance  of  the 
group  contrasted  vividly  :  the  svreet  resignation  of  the  blind 
sufferer,  the  marble  purity  of  Irene's  face,  and  just  in  the  rear, 
Electra's  broad,  pale  brow  and  restless,  troubled,  midnight  eyes. 
The  latter  had  been  drawing  at  the  table  in  the  middle  of  the 
room,  and  now  sat  leaning  on  her  hand,\vatching  the  two  at  the 
fire.  Presently  Irene  approached  and  began  to  examine  the 
drawings,  which  were  fragmentary,  except  one  or  two  heads,  and 
a  sketch  taken  from  the  bank  opposite  the  Falls.  After  some 
moments  passed  in  looking  over  them,  Irene  addressed  tlie  quiet 
little  figure. 

"  Have  you  been  to  Mr.  Chfton's  studio  ?'' 

"  No  ;  who  is  he  ?" 

"  An  artist  from  Xew  York.  His  health  is  poor,  and  he  is 
spending  the  winter  south.  Have  n't  you  heard  of  him  ?  Every- 
body is  having  portraits  taken.  lie  is  painting  mine  now — fa- 
ther would  make  me  sit  again,  though  he  has  a  likeness  which 
was  painted  four  years  ago.  I  am  going  down  to-morrow  for 
niy  last  sitting,  and  should  like  very  much  for  you  to  go  with 
me.  Perhaps  Mr.  Clifton  can  give  you  some  valuable  hiuts. 
Will  you  go  ?'' 

"With  great  pleasure." 

"  Then  I  will  call  for  you  a  little  before  ten  o'clock.  Here 
are  some  crayons  I  bought  for  you  a  week  ago.     Good-by." 

She  left  the  room  as  quietly  as  she  had  entered,  and  found 
Paragon  waiting  for  her  at  the  door.  He  gambolled  before  her 
all  the  way — now  darting  ofi,  and  as  suddenly  returning,  to 
throw  himself  at  her  feet  and  wonder  why  she  failed  to  caress 
him  as  usual.  Other  thoughts  engaged  her  now  ;  she  could  see 
nothing  but  the  form  of  the  widow,  and  to-day  she  realized  more 
than  ever  before  how  much  she  needed  a  mother.  Low,  sweet, 
gentle  tones  rarely  fell  upon  her  ear,  and,  except  her  father  and 
Dr.  Arnold,  no  one  had  ever  attempted  to  caress  her.  She 
wearied  of  the  fourteen  years  of  isolation,  and  now  on  enterhig 
her  fifteenth  looked  about  her  for  at  least  one  congenial  spirit. 
She  knew  of  none  but  Elcctra  and  Mrs.  Aubrey  who  in  any  de- 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  61 

grcp  sympathized  with  her,  and  from  these  slie  was  debarred  by 
parental  interdict.  Miss  M-argaret,  seconded  by  Mr.  Hunting- 
don, now  constantly  prescribed  a  course  of  conduct  detestable  to 
the  girl,  who  plainly  jicrcoived  that  as  she  grew  older  these  dif- 
ferences increased.  Was  it  her  duty  to  submit  unhesitatingly  to 
their  dictation  ?  Did  the  command  of  filial  obedience  embrace 
all  such  matters,  or  was  it  modified — limited  by  the  right  of  in- 
dividual conscience  ?  This  consultation  was  long  and  patient, 
and  the  conclusion  unalterable.  She  would  do  what  she  be- 
lieved to  be  proper,  whatever  she  thought  her  duty,  at  all  haz- 
ards. She  had  no  one  to  guide  her,  and  must  rely  only  on  God 
and  her  own  heart. 

The  following  day  Miss  Margaret  accompanied  her  to  the 
studio.  As  the  carriage  approached  the  cottage-gate,  Irene  di- 
rected the  driver  to  stop. 

"  For  what  ?''  asked  her  aunt. 

"  Electra  Grey  is  going  with  me  ;  I  promised  to  call  for  her. 
She  has  an  extraordinary  talent  for  drawing,  and  I  want  to  in- 
troduce her  to  Mr.  Clifton.     Open  the  door,  Andrew." 

"  Irene,  are  you  deranged  !  Your  father  never  would  forgive 
you  if  he  knew  you  associated  with  those  pooi)!e.  I  can't  think 
of  allowing  that  girl  to  enter  this  carriage.  Drive  on.  I  must 
really  speak  to  Leonard  about  your  obstinacy  in  visiting  at 
that—" 

"Stop,  Andrew  !  If  you  don't  choose  to  ride  with  Electra, 
aunt  Margaret,  you  may  go  on  alone,  for  either  she  shall  ride  or 
I  will  walk  with  her." 

Andrew  opened  the  door,  and  she  was  stepping  out,  when 
Electra  appeared  in  the  walk  and  immediately  joined  her.  Miss 
Margaret  was  thoroughly  aroused  and  indignant,  but  thought  it 
best  to  submit  for  the  time,  and  when  Irene  introduced  her  friend 
she  took  no  notice  of  her  whatever,  except  by  drawing  herself 
up  in  one  corner  and  lowering  her  veil.  The  girls  talked  during 
the  remainder  of  the  ride,  and  when  they  reached  Mr.  Clifton's 
door  ran  up  the  steps  together,  totally  unmindful  of  the  august 
lady's  ill  humor. 

The  artist  was  standing  before  an  easel  which  held  Irene's  un- 


02  macaria;  or, 

finished  portrait,  and  as  he  turned  to  greet  his  visitors,  Electra 
saw  that,  tliough  thiu  and  pale,  his  face  was  one  of  rare  beauty 
and  benevolence.  His  brown,  curling  hair  hung  loosely  about 
his  shoulders,  and  an  uncommonly  long  beard  of  the  same  silky 
texture  descended  almost  to  his  waist.  He  shook  hands  with 
Irene,  and  looked  inquiringly  at  her  companion. 

"  ^Ir.  Clifton,  this  is  Miss  Electra  Grev,  whose  drawings  I 
mentioned  to  you  last  week.  I  wisli,  if  you  please,  you  would 
examine  some  of  them  when  you  have  leisure." 

Electra  looked  for  an  instant  into  his  large,  clear  gray  eyes 
as  he  took  her  drawings  and  said  he  would  be  glad  to  assist  her, 
and  knew  that  henceforth  the  tangled  path  would  be  smoothed 
and  widened.  She  stood  at  the  back  of  his  chair  during:  the 
hour's  sitting,  and  with  peculiar  interest  watched  the  strokes  of 
his  brush  as  the  portrait  grew  under  his  practised  hand.  When 
Irene  rose,  the  orphan  moved  away  and  began  to  scrutinize  the 
numerous  })ictures  scattered  about  the  room.  A  great  joy  filled 
her  heart  and  illumined  her  fac^  and  she  waited  for  the  words 
of  encouragement  that  she  felt  assured  would  be  spoken.  The 
artist  looked  over  her  sketches  slowly,  carefully,  and  his  eye  went 
back  to  her  brilliant  countenance,  as  if  to  read  there  answers  to 
ciphers  which  perplexed  him.  But  yet  more  baflaing  cryptogra- 
phy met  him  in  tiie  deep,  flashing,  appealing  eyes,  on  the  crim- 
son, quivering  lips,  on  the  low,  full  brow,  with  its  widely-separa- 
ted black  arches.  Evidently  the  face  possessed  far  more  attrac- 
tion than  the  drawings,  and  he  made  her  sit  down  beside  him, 
and  passed  his  hand  over  her  head  and  temples,  as  a  professed 
phrenologist  might  preparatory  to  rendering  a  chart. 

"  Your  sketches  are  very  rough,  very  crude,  but  they  also  dis- 
play great  power  of  thought  ;  some  of  them  singular  beauty  of 
conception  ;  and  I  see  from  your  countenance  that  you  are  dis- 
satisfied because  the  execution  falls  so  far  short  of  the  concep- 
tion. Let  me  talk  to  you  candidly  ;  you  have  uncommon  tal- 
ent, but  the  most  exalted  genius  can  not  dispense  with  laborious 
study.  Michael  Augelo  studied  anatomy  for  twelve  years  ;  vou 
will  require  long  and  earnest  apphcation  before  you  can  possibly 
accomplish  anything  of  importance.     The  study  of  Art  is  no 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  C3 

mere  pastime,  as  some  people  suppose  ;  an  artist's  life  is  an  ar- 
duous one  at  best.  I  liave  been  told  something  of  yonr  history  ; 
you  are  very  poor,  and  wi^h  to  make  painting  a  profession. 
Think  well  before  you  decide  this  matter  ;  remember  tliat  long, 
tedious  months  must  elapse  before  you  can  hope  to  execute  even 
an  ordinary  portrait.  You  must  acquaint  yourself  with  the 
anatomy  of  the  human  system  before  you  undertake  anything. 
I  thought  I  had  finished  my  course  seven  years  ago,  but  I  went 
to  Italy  and  soon  saw  that  I  had  only  begun  to  learn  my  profes- 
sion.    Think  well  of  all  this." 

''  I  have  thought  of  it ;  I  am  willing  to  work  any  number  of 
years  ;  I  have  decided,  and  I  am  not  to  be  frightened  from  my 
purpose.  I  am  poor,  I  can  barely  buy  the  necessary  materials, 
much  less  the  books,  but  I  will  be  an  artist  yet.  I  have  decided, 
sir  ;  it  is  no  new  whim  ;  it  has  been  a  bright  dream  to  me  all 
my  life,  and  I  am  determined  to  realize  it." 

"  Amen  ;  so  let  it  be,  then.  I  shall  remain  here  some  weeks 
longer  ;  come  to  me  every  day  at  ten  o'clock,  and  I  will  instruct 
you.  You  shall  have  such  bo^Sks  as  you  need,  and  with  perse- 
verance  you  have  nothing  to  fear." 

He  went  into  the  adjoining  room,  and  returned  with  a  small 
volume.  As  he  gave  it  to  her,  with  some  directions  concernino- 
the  contents,  she  caught  his  hand  to  her  lips,  saying  hnstily  : 

"  My  guardian  angel  certainly  brought  you  here  to  spend  the 
winter.  Oh,  sir  !  I  will  prove  my  gratitude  for  your  goodness 
by  showing  that  I  am  not  unworthy  of  it.  I  thank  you  from 
the  very  depths  of  my  glad  heart." 

As  she  released  his  hand  and  left  the  studio  he  found  two 
bright  drops  on  his  fingers,  drops  called  forth  ])y  the  most  in- 
tense joy  she  had  ever  known.  Having  some  connnission  from 
her  aunt,  she  did  not  re-enter  the  carriage,  and,  after  thanking 
Irene  for  her  kindness,  walked  away.  The  ride  home  was  very 
s.Ient,  iMi<s  Margaret  sat  stiff  and  icy,  looking  quite  insulted, 
while  her  niece  was  too  much  engrossed  by  other  refiections  t<i 
notice  her.  The  latter  spent  the  remainder  of  the  morning  in 
writing  to  Hugh  and  correcting  her  French  exercises,  and  when 
summoned  to  dinner  she  entered  the  room  expecting  a  storm.    A 


Gi  MAC  ART  A.  ;    OR, 

glance  sufficed  to  sbow  Ler  that  Miss  Margaret  had  not  yet 
spoken  to  her  father  ;  though  it  was  evident  from  her  counte- 
nance that  she  was  about  to  make  what  she  considered  an  im- 
portant revelation.  The  meal  passed,  however,  without  any  allusion 
to  the  subject,  and,  knowing  what  she  had  to  expect,  Irene  ii)i- 
mediately  withdrew  to  the  library  to  give  her  aunt  an  oppor- 
tunity of  unburdening  her  mind.  The  struggle  must  come  some 
time,  and  she  longed  to  have  it  over  as  soon  as  possible.  She 
threw  up  the  sash,  seated  herself  on  the  broad  cedar  window-sill, 
and  began  to  work  out  a  sum  in  Algebra.  Nearly  a  half-hour 
passed  ;  the  slamming  of  the  dining-room  door  was  like  the  first 
line  of  foam,  curling  and  whitening  the  sea  when  the  tempest 
sweeps  forward  ;  her  father  stamped  into  the  library,  and  the 
storm  Ijroke  over  her. 

"  Irene  !  did  n't  I  positively  order  you  to  keep  away  from 
that  Aubrey  family  ?  What  do  you  mean  by  setting  me  at  de- 
fiance in  this  way,  you  wilful,  spoiled,  hard-headed  piece  ?  Do 
you  suppose  I  intend  to  put  up  with  your  obstinacy  all  my  life, 
and  let  you  walk  roughshod  over  me  and  my  commands  ?  You 
have  queened  it  long  enough,  my  lady.  If  I  don't  rein  you  up, 
you  v\'ill  turn  your  aunt  and  me  out  of  the  house  next,  and  invite 
that  precious  Aubrey  crew  to  take  possession.  Your  confound- 
ed stubbornness  will  ruin  you  yet.  You  deserve  a  good  whip- 
ping, miss  ;  I  can  hardly  keep  ray  hands  off  of  you." 

He  did  not  ;  rough  hands  seized  her  shoulder,  jerked  her  from 
the  window-sill,  and  sliook  her  violently.  Down  fell  l)ook,  slate, 
and  pencil  with  a  crash  ;  down  swept  the  heavy  hair,  blinding  her. 
She  put  it  back,  folded  her  hands  behind  her  as  if  for  support, 
and,  looking  up  at  him,  said  in  a  low,  steady,  yet  grieved  tone  : 
"  I  am  very  sorry  you  are  angry  with  me,  father." 
"  Devilish  sorry,  I  dare  say  !  Don't  be  hypocritic?.l  !  Did  n't 
I  tell  you  to  keep  away  from  those  people  ?  Dou't  stand  there 
like  a  block  of  stone  ;  answer  me  !  " 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  but  I  did  not  promise  to  do  so.     I  am  not  hypo- 
critical, father." 

"  You  did  not  promise,  indeed  !      What  do  I  care  for  prom- 
ises ?     It  was  your  duty  to  obey  me." 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  C5 

"  I  don't  tliiiik  it  v/as,  fatlier,  wlien  you  refiisod  tog:ivome  any 
reason  for  avoiding  Mrs.  Aubrey  or  her  family.  They  are  unfor- 
tunate, but  lionorable  people  ;  and,  being  very  poor  and  afflict- 
ed, I  felt  sorry  for  them.  I  can't  sec  how  my  going  there  oc- 
casionally harms  you,  or  me,  or  anybody  else.  I  know  very 
well  that  you  dislike  them,  but  you  never  told  me  why,  and  I 
cm  not  hnagine  any  good  reason  for  it.  Father,  if  I  love  them, 
why  should  not  I  associate  v/ith  them  ?  " 

"  Because  I  say  you  shan't !  you  tormenting,  headstrong  little 
imp  !  -' 

"  My  father,  that  is  no  reason." 

*'  Reason  !  I  wiil  put  you  where  you  will  have  no  occasion 
for  reasons.  Oh  !  I  can  match  you,  you  perverse  little  wretch  ! 
I  am  going  to  send  you  to  a  boarding-school,  do  you  hear  that  ? 
send  you  where  you  will  have  no  Aubrey's  to  abet  your  obsti- 
nacy and  disobedience  ;  where  that  temper  of  yours  can  be 
curbed.  How  will  you  relish  getting  up  before  day,  kindling 
your  own  firQ,  if  you  have  any,  making  your  own  bed,  and  liv- 
ing on  bread  and  water  ?  I  will  take  you  to  New  York,  and 
keep  you  there  till  you  arc  grown  and  learn  common  sense. 
Now  get  out  of  my  sight  !  " 

With  a  stamp  of  rage,  he  pointed  to  the  door.  Hitherto  she 
had  stood  quite  still,  but  now  an  expression  of  anguish  passed 
swiftly  over  her  face,  and  she  put  out  her  hands  appealingly —  _i:: 

"  Father  !  my  father  !  don't  send  me  away  !     Please  let  me  " 
stay  at  home." 

"  Not  if  I  live  long  enough  to  take  you.  Just  as  certainly  as 
tlie  sun  shines  in  heaven,  you  will  go  as  soon  as  your  clothes  can 
be  made.  Your  aunt  will  have  you  ready  in  a  week.  Don't 
open  your  mouth  to  me  !  I  don't  want  to  hear  another  word 
from  you.     Take  yourself  off." 

She  picked  up  her  slate  and  book  and  left  the  room.  Her  hat 
hung  on  the  rack  in  the  hall,  and,  taking  it  down,  she  passed 
out  through  the  rear  piazza.  Paragon  leaped  and  whined  at 
sight  of  her  ;  she  unchained  him,  and,  leaving  the  yard,  turned 
into  a  narrow  zigzag  path,  leading  in  an  opposite  direction  from 
the  fi'ont  of  the  house.     The  building  stood  on  quite  a  hill,  one 


m 


(j6  mac  aria  ;  or, 

side  of  whicli  sloped  down  to  the  brink  of  a  creek  that  emptied 
itself  into  the  river  a  mile  above  the  town.  This  declivity  was 
thickly  wooded,  and,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  stream,  a  dense 
swamp  stretched  away.  Cypress,  pine,  beech,  magnolias  tower- 
ed far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  and  now,  in  the  gathering  gloom 
of  evening,  looked  sombre  and  solemn.  This  was  a  favorite 
haunt  of  Irene's  ;  she  knew  every  nook  of  the  forest  and  bend 
of  the  creek  as  well  as  the  shy  rabbits  that  flitted  away  at  her 
approach  ;  and,  on  this  occasion,  she  sought  a  rude  seat,  formed 
by  the  interlacing  of  two  wild  grape-vines.  At  her  feet  the 
channel  ran  deep  and  strong,  and  the  rocky  bed  was  distinctly 
seen  ;  but  a  few  yards  off  the  stream  widened  into  a  small  lake, 
and  there,  on  its  dark,  still  surface,  masses  of  water-lilies  spread 
out  their  broad,  green,  glossy  leaves.  It  was  a  lonely  place  ; 
even  in  the  day  owls  hooted  one  to  another,  and  strange,  harsh 
cries  were  heard  from  birds  that  never  forsook  the  swamp.  It 
was  April,  early  April,  and  from  the  hill-side,  fringed  with 
honeysuckles  of  varied  hue,  and  festooned  ^\ith  yellow  jasmine 
tliat  clambered  in  wild  luxuriance  over  tree  and  shrub,  the  south- 
ern breeze  wafted  spicy,  intoxicating  aromas.  Redbuds  lifted 
their  rosy  limbs  against  dark,  polished  magnolias,  and  here  and 
there  masses  of  snow  told  where  the  dogwoods  grew.  Clusters 
of  violets  embroidered  the  hill-side,  and  crimson  woodbine  trail- 
d  over  the  ground,  catching  at  every  drooping  bough,  and 
limbing  stealthily,  auxious,  like  all  weak  natures,  to  hang  on 
something  sturdy.  Irene  usually  revelled  amid  this  wealth  of 
floral  beauty,  but  now  she  could  not  enjoy  it.  She  looked  at  her 
favorites,  and  understood  what  was  meant  by  the  words — 


"  I  see  tliem  all  so  excellently  fair, 
I  see,  not  feel,  how  beautiful  they  are." 

The  first  great  grief  of  her  life  had  fallen  on  her  ;  heretofore 
all  had  been  so  serene,  so  flowery,  that  she  could  not  easily  un- 
derstand or  endure  the  crushing  weigflt  on  her  heart.  Reared 
in  seclusion,  the  thought  of  her  being  sent  from  her  beautiful, 
luxurious  home,  and  thrust  among  utter  strangers,  startled  and 
tilled  her  with  dread.     She  was  astonished,  pained,  and  mortified 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  67 

by  her  father's  Imrsh  l:inguai:^e  ;  and,  loving  him  very  sincerely, 
she  shrank  from  the  long  separation  he  threatened  :  yet,  amid 
all  these  complex  emotions,  she  felt  not  the  slightest  regret  for 
the  conrse  she  had  pursued  ;  under  similar  circumstances  she 
would  again  act  just  as  she  had  done.  Then  came  the  remem- 
brance that  she  might  meet  her  unfortunate  friends  no  more. 
Mrs.  Aubrey  was  evidently  dechning  rapidly,  and  what  would 
become  of  Electra  and  Russell  ?  They  might  move  away  ;  they, 
too,  might  die  ;  nay,  she  might  never  come  back  to  the  home  of 
her  birth  ;  death's  harvest  was  in  all  seasons,  and,  looking  upon 
the  lakelet,  she  shuddered  and  moaned.  The  snowy  water-lilies 
glanced  up  at  her,  and  seemed  to  say,  as  they  trembled  unceas- 
ingly in  the  current  far  below  the  surface,  ''  bend  !  bend  !"  A 
passage  in  Dante,  which  she  had  read  the  week  before,  crossed 
her  mind  now,  as  she  noted  the  constant  swaying  of  the  fragile 
flowers,  so  impotent  to  resist  that  under-current  sweeping  their 
roots  : 

" No  other  plant, 

Covered  with  leaves,  or  hardened  in  its  stalk, 
There  lives,  not  bending  to  the  water's  swa}'." 

ITe  had  selected  reeds  as  a  type  of  patience,  but  the  pale,  pure, 
quivering  lilies  were  to  her  a  far  more  impressive  symbol  of  re- 
signation. An  aged  gnarled  cypress  towered  above  her,  and  from 
tlie  knotted  limbs  drooped  long  funeral  wreaths  of  gray  moss,^^ 
fluttering  mournfully  in  the  evening  wind,  like  badges  of  craped 
in  houses  of  death.  From  amid  this  somljre  drapery  came  the 
lonely  hoot  of  an  owl,  and,  with  a  strange  sensation  of  desola- 
tion, Irene  fell  on  her  knees  and  committed  herself  to  the  care 
of  the  Great  Shepherd.  Darkness  closed  around,  but  as  she 
prayed  the  silver  rays  of  the  evening  star  peered  down  through 
the  trembling  streamers  of  moss,  and  gleamed  on  the  upturned 
face.  She  broke  one  of  the  lilies,  and,  fastening  it  among  her 
curls,  followed  Paragon  up  the  hill-side.  The  week  whicli  suc- 
ceeded was  wretched  to  the  girl,  for  her  father's  surveillance 
prevented  her  from  visiting  the  cottage,  even  to  say  adieu  to  its 
imnates  ;  and  no  alternative  presented  itself  but  to  leave  foi* 
them  (in  the  hands  of  Nellie,  her  devoted  nurse,)  a  note  contain- 


• 


68  MACAKIA  ;    OR, 

iiig  a  few  parting  words  and  assurances  of  unfading  friendsliip 
and  remembrance.  The  day  of  departure  dawned  rainy,  gloomy, 
and  the  wind  sobbed  and  wailed  down  the  avenue  as  Irene  stood 
at  her  window,  looking  out  on  the  lawn  where  her  life  had  been 
passed.  Although  Nellie  was  weeping  bitterly  at  her  side,  she 
had  not  shed  a  tear  ;  but  the  face  was  full  of  grief,  and  her  lit- 
tle hands  were  clasped  tightly  as  the  faithful  nurse  pressed  them 
affectionately  in  her  palms.  Disengaging  herself,  Irene  took  an 
umbrella  and  went  to  the  stable  for  a  last  look  at  Erebus.  Tiiis 
tried  her  sorely,  and  her  lip  was  unsteady  when  she  left  him  and 
sought  Paragon.  The  latter,  little  suspecting  the  true  state  of 
affairs,  gambolled  and  whined  as  joyously  as  ever  at  her  ap- 
proach ;  and,  when  the  crowned  head  went  down  moaningly  on 
his  silky  neck,  he  barked  and  frisked  in  recognition  of  the  caress. 
The  breakfast-bell  summoned  her  away,  and,  a  half-hour  after, 
she  saw  the  lofty  columns  of  the  old  house  fade  from  view,  and 
knew  that  many  months,  perhaps  years,  must  elapse  before  the 
ancestral  trees  of  the  Ions:  avenue  would  wave  as-aiu  over  the 
head  of  their  young  mistress.  Her  father  sat  beside  her,  moody 
and  silent,  and,  when  the  brick  wall  and  arched  iron  gate  van- 
ished from  her  sight,  she  sank  back  in  one  corner,  and,  covering 
her  face  with  her  hands,  smothered  a  groan  and  fought  desper- 
ately with  her  voiceless  anguish. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Youth  is  hopeful,  beautifully  hopeful,  and  fresh,  pure  hearts 
rebound  from  sorrow  with  wonderful  elasticity.  When  clouds 
lower  and  the  way  seems  dark  and  tangled,  hope  flies  forward, 
}»ioaeer-like,  to  clear  away  all  obstacles.  Huge  barriers  frown- 
ed between  Electra  and  the  heights  she  strained  every  nerve  to 
reach,  but  never  for  an  instant  did  she  doubt  the  success  of  the 
struggle.     Like    Orpheus   seeking  Eurydice,  to  look  back  was 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  ()9 

fearful   and   liazardous ;   aiul   fixing   her   eyes   steadily  ou  the 
future,  she  allowed  herself  no  haunting  foreboding. 

"  Cry,  faint  not !  climb  the  summit's  slope 
Beyond  the  farthest  flights  of  hope, 
Wrapt  in  dense  cloud  from  base  to  cope." 

What  human  powers  can  endure  and  accomplish  is  to  be 
measured  only  by  the  necessity  which  goads,  and  all  herculean 
trophies  are  won  by  desperate  needs.  Th6  laws  which  govern 
our  moral  and  intellectual  natures  are  as  rigid  and  inevitable 
in  their  operation  as  those  whose  workings  we  constantly  trace 
in  the  physical  world ;  of  which  truth  the  history  of  nations 
and  memoirs  of  great  men  furnish  innumerable  exemplifications. 
Consequently,  it  is  both  unjust  and  illogical  to  judge  of  the 
probability  of  this  or  that  event  or  series  of  events,  or  the  natu- 
ralness of  this  or  that  character,  whether  in  authenticated  his- 
tory or  fictitious  works,  without  a  thorough  acquaintance  with 
all  antecedents,  and  the  various  relations  surrounding  the  actor. 
Header,  as  you  walk  side  by  side  with  these  whose  lives  I  am 
narratingr  bear  this  in  mind — the  silver-winored  pio-eons  that 
flash  in  and  out  of  the  venerable  trees  shading  the  old  home- 
stead, and  coo  and  flutter  amid  the  rainbow  spray  of  the  foun- 
tain, would  droop,  shiver,  and  die  on  bald,  awful  Alpine  pin- 
nacles, where  in  the  fierce  howl,  and  scourging  of  tempests 
eaglets  wheel  in  triumph,  and  scream  defiantly ;  and  tender 
pet  lambs,  coaxed  into  flowery,  luxuriant  meadows,  would  soon 
make  their  graves  in  the  murderous  snow  over  which  young 
chamois  bleat  and  skip  in  wild  glee,  fearless  as  the  everlasting 
hills. 

Day  after  day  Electra  toiled  over  her  work  ;  the  delicate 
frame  learned  its  destiny,  sighed  at  its  future,  but  grew  strong  ; 
and  complaining  nerves,  catching  some  of  her  iron  resolve,  en- 
dured patiently — became  finally  thoroughly  inured  to  their 
arduous  duties.  Her  aunt  constantly  claimed  her  attention  for 
the  various  little  offices  so  grateful  to  an  invalid,  but  by  an 
extraordinary  alchemy  she  contrived  to  convert  every  interrup- 
tion into  an  occasion  of  profit.     If  lending  her  arm  to  support 


^. 


70  MACAEIA  :    OR 


A 


the  drooping  form  in  a  short  walk  around  the  little  garden,  she 
would  describe  the  varying  tints  of  the  sky,  as  the  clouds  shifted 
their  gorgeous  curtains  of  purple  and  scarlet  and  gold,  until 
thoroughly  familiarized  with  the  varied  chameleon  hues  and 
strange,  grotesque  outlines  traced  by  every  rift.  Nature  was 
a  vast  storehouse  of  matchless,  unapproachable  beauty  to  that 
eager,  thirsty  soul — a  boundless  studio,  filled  with  wonderful 
creations,  open  to  her  at  all  times — in  the  rosy,  opaline  flush  of 
morning,  the  blazing  splendor  of  full-orbed  noon,  the  silver  gray 
of  twilight,  peopled  with  dusky  phantoms,  weird  and  shifting 
as  Fata-Morgana — the  still  sublimity,  the  solemn,  sacred  witch- 
ery of  star-crowned,  immemorial  Night.  She  answered  the 
first  hoarse  call  of  thunder  by  stationing  herself  at  the  window 
to  watch  the  stormy  panorama  sweep  over  the  heavens;  and 
not  Ruysdael,  nor  Vandervelde,  nor  Turner  ever  gazed  with 
more  intense  delight  on  the  hurrying  masses  of  vapor  than  that 
fragile  girl,  as  she  stood  with  forked  lightning  glaring  luridly 
over  her  upturned,  enraptured  face.  Favored  ones  of  fortune 
lean  against  marble  pillars  in  royal  museums,  to  study  the  im- 
perishable works  of  earth's  grandest  old  artists ;  but  she  lived 
in  a  cosmopolitan  temple,  whose  skyey  frescos  were  fresh  from 
the  han^s  of  Jehovah  himself.  The  rapidity  of  her  progress 
astonished  Mr.  Clifton.  He  questioned  hei*  concerning  the  pro- 
cesses she  employed  in  some  of  her  curious  combinations,  but 
the  fragmentary,  abstracted  nature  of  her  conversation  during 
the  hours  of  instruction  gave  him  little  satisfactory  information. 
His  interest  in  her  increased,  until  finally  it  became  absorbing, 
and  he  gave  her  all  the  time  she  could  spare  from  home.  The 
eagerness  with  which  she  listened  to  his  directions,  the  facility 
with  which  she  applied  his  rules,  fully  repaid  him ;  and  from 
day  to  day  he  postponed  his  return  to  the  North,  reluctant  to 
leave  his  indefatigable  pupil.  Now  and  then  the  time  of 
departure  was  fixed,  but  ere  it  arrived  he  wavered  and  pro- 
crastinated. 

Electra  knew  that  his  stay  had  been  prolonged  beyond  his 
original  intention,  and  she  dreaded  the  hour  when  she  should 
be  deprived  of  his  aid  and  advice.      Though  their  acquaintance 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICP:.  71 

had  been  so  short,  a  strangely  strong  feeling  had  grown  up  in 
her  heart  toward  him  ;  a  feeling  of  clinging  tenderness,  blended 
with  earnest  and  undying  gratitude.  She  knew  tliat  lie  under- 
stood her  character  and  appreciated  her  struggles,  and  it  soothed 
her  fierce,  proud  heart,  in  some  degree,  to  receive  fioni  him 
those  tokens  of  constant  remembrance  which  she  so  yearned  to 
have  from  Russell.  She  felt,  too,  that  she  was  not  regarded 
as  a  stranger  by  the  artist ;  she  could  see  his  sad  eyes  brighten 
at  her  entrance,  and  detect  the  tremor  in  his  hand  and  voice 
when  he  spoke  of  going  home.  His  health  had  improved,  and 
the  heat  of  summer  had  come ;  why  did  he  linger  ?  Plis  even- 
ings were  often  spent  at  the  cottage,  and  even  Mrs.  Aubrey 
learned  to  smile  at  the  sound  of  his  step. 

One  morning  as  Electra  finished  her  lesson  and  rose  to  go, 
he  said  slowly,  as  if  watching  the  effect  of  his  words  : 

"  This  is  the  last  hour  I  can  give  you.  In  two  days  I  return 
to  New  York.  Letters  of  importance  came  this  morning;  I 
have  waited  here  too  long  already." 

"  Are  you  in  earnest  this  time  ?" 

"I  am;  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that  I  should  return 
home." 

"  Mr.  Clifton,  what  shall  I  do  without  you  ?" 

"  Suppose  you  had  never  seen  me  ?" 

"  Then  I  should  not  have  had  to  lose  you.  Oh,  sir  !  I  need 
you  very  much.'^ 

"  Electra,  child,  you  will  conquer  your  difficulties  without 
assistance  from  any  one.     You  have  nothinof  to  fear  " 

"  Yes,  I  know  I  shall  conquer  at  last,  but  the  way  would  be 
so  much  easier  if  you  were  only  w^ith  me.  I  shall  miss  you 
more  than  I  can  tell  you." 

He  passed  his  hand  over  his  short  shining  hair,  and  mused 
for  a  moment  as  if  laying  conflicting  emotions  in  the  balance. 
She  heard  his  deep,  labored  breathing,  and  saw  the  working  of 
tlie  muscles  in  his  pale  face ;  when  he  spoke,  his  voice  was 
husky  : 

"  You  are  right  :  j^ou  need  me,  and  I  want  you  always  with 
me;  we  must  not  be  parted.     Electra,  I  say   we  shall  not. 


72  MACARIA  ;    OR, 

Come  to  me,  put  your  hands  in  mine — promise  me  that  you 
will  be  my  child,  my  pupil ;  I  will  taks  you  to  my  mother,  and 
we  need  never  be  separated.  You  require  aid,  such  as  can  not 
be  had  here ;  in  New  York  you  shall  have  all  that  you  want. 
Will  you  come  with  me  ?" 

He  held  her  hands  in  a  vice-like  grasp,  and  looked  pleadingly 
into  her  astonished  countenance.  A  mist  gathered  before  her, 
and  she  closed  her  eves. 

V 

"  Electra,  will  you  come  ?" 

"  Give  me  ten  minutes  to  think,"  she  answered  shiveringly. 
He  turned  away  and  walked  up  and  down  the  floor,  taking  care 
to  conceal  his  face.  She  sat  down  before  a  table  and  dropped 
her  forehead  in  her  palms.  What  slight  things  often  shape 
human  destiny  ;  how  little  people  realize  the  consequences  of 
seemingly  trivial  words,  looks,  or  actions  !  The  day  before 
Electra  would  unhesitatingly  have  declined  this  proposition  ; 
but  only  that  morning,  as  she  passed  Russell's  door  before 
breakfast,  she  saw  him  w'ith  Irene's  farewell  note  in  his  hand ; 
saw  him  press  his  lips  hastily  to  the  signature.  Her  jealous 
heart  was  on  fire  ;  the  consciousness  of  his  love  for  another 
rendered  her  reckless  and  indescribably  miserable.  In  this 
mood  she  reflected  ;  Mr.  Clifton  seemed  to  have  become  warmly 
attached  to  her,  and  could  help  her  to  attain  the  eminence  she 
bad  in  view;  she  was  poor,  why  not  accept  his  generous  offer  ? 
Russell  would  not  miss  her — would  not  care  whether  she  left 
him  or  remained.  If  she  were  far  away,  at  least  she  would  not 
be  tormented  by  his  coldness  and  indifference.  The  future 
(barring  her  ambitious  dreams)  w^as  dim,  joyless ;  she  had  to 
earn  a  support,  she  scorned  to  be  dependent  on  her  cousin,  fame 
lured  her  on.  Yes,  she  would  go.  Mr.  Clifton  took  out  his 
watch  and  paused  beside  her : 

"  Ten  minutes  have  passed ;   Electra,  will  you  come  ?" 

She  raised  her  bloodless  face,  stamped  with  stern  resolve,  and 
ere  the  words  were  pronounced  he  read  his  answer  in  the  dcfiaitit 
gleam  of  her  eyes,  in  the  hard,  curved  lines  of  the  mouth. 

"  Mr.  Clifton,  I  can  not  go  with  you  just  now,  for  at  present 
I  can  not,  ought  not,  to  leave  my  aunt.     Helpless  as  she  is,  it 


ALTAKS    OF    SACRIFICE.  73 

would  be  cruel,  ungrateful,  to  desert  her;  but  thinojs  can  not 
continue  this  way  much  longer,  and  I  promise  you  that  as  soon 
as  I  can  I  will  go  to  you.  I  want  to  be  with  you ;  I  want 
somebody  to  care  for  me,  and  I  know  you  will  be  a  kind  friend 
to  me  always.  Most  gratefully  will  I  accept  your  generous 
offer  so  soon  as  I  fe^l  that  I  can  do  so." 

He  stooped  and  touched  her  forehead  with  his  lips. 

"  My  dear  Electra,  I  will  shield  you  from  trials  and  diffi- 
culties ;  I  will  prize  you  above  everything  on  earth  ;  I  know 
you  are  making  a  great  sacrifice  to  be  with  me  ;  I  know  how 
hard  it  is  for  you  to  leave  home  and  relatives.  But,  my  child, 
your  aunt  has  only  a  short  time  to  live ;  she  is  failing  very  fast,  and 
your  duty  to  her  will  not  keep  you  here  long.  You  are  right  to 
remain  with  her,  but  when  she  needs  you  no  more  I  shall  expect 
yon  to  come  to  me  in  New  York.  Meantime,  I  shall  write  to 
you  frequently,  and  supply  you  with  such  books  and  materials 
as  you  require.  My  pupil,  I  long  to  have  you  in  my  own  home. 
Remember,  no  matter  what  happens,  you  have  promised  youi'- 
self  to  me." 

"  I  shall  not  forget;"  but  he  saw  her  shudder. 

"  Shall  I  speak  to  your  aunt  about  this  matter  before  I  go  ?" 

"  No,  it  would  only  distress  her  ;  leave  it  all  with  me.  It  is 
late  and  I  must  go.     Good-by,  sir." 

He  promised  to  see  her  agaiu  before  his  departure,  and  she 
walked  home  with  her  head  bowed  and  a  sharp  continual  pain 
gnawing  at  her  heart. 

In  the  calm,  peaceful  years  of  ordinary  childhood,  the  soul 
matures  slowly  ;  but  a  volcanic  nature  like  Electra's,  subjected 
to  galling  trials,  rapidly  hardens,  and  answers  every  stroke  with 
the  metalic  ring  of  age.  Keen  susceptibility  to  joy  or  pain 
taught  her  early  that  less  impressive  characters  are  years  in 
learning,  and  it  was  lamentably  true  that  while  yet  a  mere  girl, 
she  suffered  as  acutely  as  a  woman.  The  battle  of  life  must  ]>e 
fouo-ht,  and  if  one  begins  skirmishino-  in  the  cradle,  tactics  are 
soon  learned,  and  the  conflict  ends  more  speedily.  But  Electra 
had  also  conned  another  lesson  :  to  lock  her  troubles  in  her  own 
heart,  voicing  no  complaint,  and  when  she  sought  her  aunt,  and 

4 


74  MACAEIA  ;    OE, 

read  aloud  the  favorite  chapters  in  the  Bible,  or  led  her  up  and 
down  the  garden-walk,  talking  of  various  things,  telling  of  the 
growth  of  pet  plants,  there  was  no  indication  whatever  of  any- 
unusual  strife  or  extraordinary  occurrence.     Russell  knew  that 
a  change  had   come   over  his   cousin,  hut  was   too  constantly 
engaged,  too  entirely  absorbed  by  his  studies,  to  ask  or  analyze 
the  cause.     She  never  watched  at  the  gate  for  him  now,  never 
sprang  with  outstretched  arms  to  meet  him,  never  hung  over 
the  back   of  his   chair   and   caressed  his  hands   as  formerly. 
When  not  waiting    upon   her  aunt,  she    was    as  intent  upon 
her  books  as  he,  and  though  invariably  kind  and  unselfish  iu 
her   conduct   toward   him,    she  was    evidently  constrained  in 
his  presence.     As  the  summer  wo^-e  on,  Mrs.  Aubrey's  health 
failed  rapidly,  and  she  was   confined  to  her  couch.     There, 
in  a  low  chair  close  to  the  pillow,  sat  Electra  reading,  talking, 
exertinor  herself  to  the  utmost  to  cheer  the  widow.     She  filled 
the  thin  fingers  with  dewy  roses,  and  expatiated  on  the  glories 
of  the  outer  world^  while  the  thoughts  of  the  invalid  wandered 
to  the  approaching  shores  of  another  realm,  and  she   thanked 
God  that  though  thick  folds  of  darkness  shrouded  the  earth,  the 
veil  dropped  from  her  soul  and  the  spiritual  vision  grew  clear 
and  piercing.     If  faith  and  resignation  could  be  taught   like 
music  or  arithmetic,  then  had   Electra  learned   the   grandest 
truths  of  Christianity ;  but  it  is  a  mournful  fact  that  the  bloody 
seaLof  Experience  must  stamp  the  lesson  ere  deep  thinkers  or 
strong  natures  receive  it,  and  as  she  watched  that  precious  life 
fade,  like  the  purple  light  of  summer  in  evening  skies,  the  only 
feeling  she  knew  was  that  of  grief  for  the  impending  loss — 
undefined  apprehension  of  coming  isolation.     If  Mrs.  Aubrey 
could  have  seen  the  countenance  which  bent  over  her  pillow, 
her  serene  soul  would  have  been  painfully  disturbed.     She  felt 
hot   tears  on  her  hands  and  cheeks,  and  knew  that  the  lips 
which  pressed  hers  often   trembled ;  but  this  seemed  natural 
enough  under  the  circumstances,  and  she  sank  quietly  down  to 
the  edge  of  the  tomb  ignoraat  of  the  sorrows  that  racked  the 
oirl's  heart.     One  morning  when  Mr.   Campbell,  the  pastor, 
had  spent  some  time  in  the  sickroom  praying  with  the  sufferer, 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  75 

and  administering  the  sacrament  of  the  Lord's  supper,  Electra 
followed  him  to  the  door,  leaving  Russell  with  his  mother.  The 
gentle  pastor  took  her  hand  kindly,  and  looked  at  her  vvith  filling 
eyes. 

"  Yon  think  my  aunt  is  worse  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  child.  I  think  that  very  soon  she  will  be  with  her 
God.     She  will  scarcely  survive  till  night — " 

She  turned  abruptly  from  him,  and  threw  herself  down  across 
the  foot  of  the  bed,  buryi  ^.g  her  face  in  her  arms.  Russell  sat 
with  his  mother's  hands  in  his,  while  she  turned  her  brown  eyes 
toward  him,  and  exhorted  him  to  commit  himself  and  his  future 
to  the  hands  of  a  merciful  God.  She  told  him  how  the  promises 
of  the  Saviour  had  supported  and  cheered  her  in  times  of  great 
need,  and  implored  him  to  dedicate  his  energies,  his  talents,  his 
life,  to  the  service  of  his  Maker.  Electra  was  not  forsrotten : 
she  advised  her  to  go  to  a  cousin  of  her  mother  residing  in  Vir- 
ginia. Long  before  she  had  written  to  this  lady,  informing  her 
of  her  own  feebleness  and  of  the  girl's  helpless  condition  ;  and 
a  kind  answer  had  been  returned,  cordially  inviting  the  orphan 
to  share  her  home,  to  become  an  inmate  of  her  house.  Russell 
could  take  her  to  these  relatives  as  soon  as  possible.  To  all 
this  no  reply  was  made,  and.  a  few  moments  later,  when  Russell 
kissed  her  tenderly  and  raised  her  pillow,  she  said  faintly — 

'*  If  I  could  look  upon  your  face  once  more,  ray  son,  it  would 
not  be  hard  to  die.  Let  me  see  you  in  heaven,  my  dear,  dear 
boy."  These  were  the  last  words,  and  soon  after  a  stupor  fell 
upon  her.  Hour  after  hour  passed  ;  Mrs.  Campbell  came  and 
sat  beside  the  bed,  and  the  three  remained  silent,  now  and  then 
lifting  bowed  heads  to  look  at  the  sleeper.  Not  a  sound  broke 
the  stillness  save  the  occasional  chirp  of  a  cricket,  and  a  shy 
mouse  crept  twice  across  the  floor,  wondering  at  the  silence,  fix- 
ing its  twinkling  bright  eyes  on  the  motionless  figures.  The  au- 
tumn day  died  slowly  as  the  widow,  and  when  the  clock  dirged 
out  the  sunset  hour  Russell  rose,  and,  putting  back  the  window- 
curtains,  stooped  and  laid  his  face  close  to  his  mother's.  Life  is 
at  best  a  struggle,  and  such  perfect  repose  as  greeted  him  is 
found  only  when  the  marble  hands  of  Death  transfer  the  soul  to 


76  MACAKIA  ;   OR, 

its  guardian  angel.  No  pulsation  stirred  the  folds  over  the 
heart,  or  the  soft  bands  of  hair  on  the  blue-veined  temples  ;  the 
still  mouth  had  breathed  its  last  sigh,  and  the  meek  brown  eyes 
had  opened  in  eternity.  The  long,  fierce  ordeal  had  ended, 
the  flames  died  out,  and  from  smouldering  ashes  the  purified 
spirit  that  had  toiled  and  fainted  not,  that  had  been  faithful  to 
the  end,  patiently  bearing  many  crosses,  heard  the  voice  of  the 
Great  Shepherd,  and  soared  joyfully  to  the  pearly  gates  of  the 
Everlasting  Home.  The  day  bore  her  away  on  its  wings,  and 
as  Russell  touched  the  icy  cheek  a  despairing  cry  rolled  through 
the  silent  cottage — 

"  Oh,  mother  !  my  own  precious  dead  mother  !  " 
Falling  on  his  knees,  he  laid  his  head  on  her  pillow,  and  when 
kind  friendly  hands  bore  her  into  the  adjoining  room,  he  knelt 
there  still,  unconscious  of  what  passed,  knowing  only  that  the 
keenest  of  many  blows  had  fallen,  that  the  last  and  bitterest 
vial  of  sorrows  had  been  emptied. 

Night  folded  her  starry  curtains  around  the  earth  ;  darkness 
settled  on  river  and  hill  and  valley.  It  was  late  September  ; 
autumn  winds  rose,  eager  for  their  work  of  death,  and  rushed 
rudely  through  the  forests,  shaking  the  sturdy  primeval  mon- 
archs  in  token  of  their  mission  and  mastery  ;  and  shivering 
leaves  rustled  down  before  them,  drifting  into  tiny  grave-like 
hillocks.  Gradually  the  stars  caught  the  contagious  gloom,  and 
shrank  behind  the  cloud -skirts  sweeping  the  cold  sky.  It  was 
a  solemn,  melancholy  night,  full  of  dreary  phantoms,  presaging 
a  dark,  dismal  morrow.  Amy  Aubrey's  still  form  reposed  on 
the  draped  table  in  the  kitchen,  and  the  fitful  candle-light  show- 
ed only  a  dim,  rigid  outline  of  white  hnen.  Mr.  Campbell  and 
his  wife  sat  together  in  the  next  room,  and  the  two  young 
mourners  were  left  in  the  silence  of  the  kitchen.  Kussell  sat  at 
the  open  window,  near  the  table  ;  his  head  leaned  on  his  hand, 
tearless,  mute,  still  as  his  mother.  At  the  opposite  window 
stood  Electra,  pressing  her  face  against  the  frame,  looking  out 
into  the  moaning,  struggling  night,  striving  to  read  the  mystic 
characters  dimly  traced  on  the  ash-gray  hurrying  clouds  as  the 
reckless  winds  parted  then*  wan  folds.     The  stony  face  of  her 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE. 


T7 


merciless  destiny  seemed  to  frown  down  at  lier,  cold,  grim, 
Sphinx-like.  Hitherto  she  had  walked  with  loved  ones  ;  now  a 
vast  sepulchre  yawned  to  receive  them  ;  a  tomb  of  clay  for 
the  quiet  sleeper,  one  of  perhaps  final  separation  for  RusslH, 
and  over  the  last  hideous  chasm  Hope  hovered  with  drooping 
wings.  To  leave  him  was  like  inurning  her  heart  and  all  the 
joy  die  had  ever  known  ;  and  then,  to  crown  her  agony,  a  thous- 
and Furies  hissed  "  Irene  will  come  back,  and  loving  her  he  will 
forget  that  you  toil  among  strangers." 

She  crushed  her  fingers  against  each  other  and  stifled  a  groan, 
while  the  chilling  voice  of  Destiny   added  :  "  trample  out  this 
weakness,  your  path  and  his  here  separate  widely  ;  you  are  noth- 
hig  to  him,  go  to  work   earnestly,   and   cease   repining."     She 
shrank  away  from  the  window,  and  approached  her  cousm.     For 
two  hours  he  had  not  changed  his  position  ;  as  far  as  she  knew, 
had  not  moved  a  muscle.     She  sat  down  at  his  feet  and  crossed 
her  arms  over  his  knees  ;  he  took  no  notice  of  her. 
"  Oh,  Russell  !  say  something  to  me,  or  I  shall  die." 
It  was  the  last  wail  she  ever  suffered  to  escape  her  in  his  pre- 
sence.    He  raised  his  head  and  put  his  hand  on  her  forehead, 
but  the  trembling  lips  refused  their   office,  and  as  she  looked  up 
at  him  tears  rolled   slowly  down   and   fell  on  her  cheek.     She 
would  have  given  worlds  to   mingle  her  tears  with   his,  but  no 
moisture  came  to  her  burning  eyes  ;  and  there  these  two,  soon  to 
separate,  passed  the  remaining  hours  of  that  long  wretched  night 
of  watching.     The  stormy  day  lifted  her  pale,  mournful  face  at 
last,  and  with  it  came  the  dreary  patter  and  sobbing  of  autumn 
rain,  making  it  doubly  harrowing  to  commit  the   precious  form 
to  its  long,  last  resting-place.     Electra  stood  up  beside  her  cou- 
sin and  folded  her  arms  together. 

"  Russell,  I  am  not  going  to  that  cousin  in  Virginia.  I  could 
owe  my  bread  and  clothes  to  you,  but  not  to  her.  She  has 
children,  and  I  do  not  intend  to  live  on  her  charity.  I  know 
you,  and  I  must  part  ;  the  sooner  the  better.  I  would  not  be 
willing  to  burden  you  a  day  longer.  I  am  going  to  fit  myself 
to  work  profitably.  Mr.  Clifton  offered  me  a  home  in  his  house, 
said  his  mother  was  lonely,  and  would  be  rejoiced  to  have  me  ; 


78  MACARIA  ;    OR, 

that  letter  which  I  received  last  week  contained  one  from  her, 
also  urging  me  to  come  ;  and,  Russell,  I  am  going  to  Xew 
York  to  study  with  him  as  long  as  I  need  instruction.  I  did 
not  tell  aunt  of  this,  because  I  knew  it  would  grieve  her  to  think 
that  I  would  be  thrown  with  strangers  ;  and  having  fully  deter- 
mined to  take  this  step,  thought  it  best  not  to  distress  her  by 
any  allusion  to  it.  You  know  it  is  my  own  affair,  and  I  can  de- 
cide it  better  than  any  one  else." 

His  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  shrouded  table,  and  he  answered 
without  looking  at  her  : 

**  Xo,  Electra,  you  must  go  to  Mrs.  Harden  ;  she  seems  anx- 
ious to  have  you  ;  and  as  for  being  dependent  upon  charity,  you 
never  shall  be  so  long  as  I  live.  You  will  merely  reside  under 
her  roof,  and  shall  not  cost  her  a  cent ;  leave  this  with  me." 

"  I  cannot  leave  it  with  anybody  ;  I  must  depend  upon  my- 
self. I  have  thought  a  great  deal  about  it,  and  my  resolution  is 
not  to  be  shaken.  You  have  been  very  kind  to  me,  Russell,  all 
my  life  ;  and  only  God  knows  how  I  love  and  thank  you.  But 
I  will  not  accept  your  hard  earnings  in  future  ;  I  should  be  mis- 
eiable  unless  at  work,  and  I  tell  you  I  must  and  will  go  to  Mr. 
Clifton." 

He  looked  at  her  now,  surprised  and  pained. 

'*  What  is  the  matter  with  you,  Electra  ?  Have  I  not  sor- 
rows enough,  that  you  must  try  to  add  another  by  your  obsti- 
nacy ?     What  would  she  think  of  you  ?" 

He  rose,  and  laid  his  hand  on  the  pure,  smooth  brow  of  the 
dead. 

"  There  is  nothing  new  the  matter  with  me.  I  have  determined 
to  go  ;  nobody  has  any  right  to  control  me,  and  it  is  worse  than 
useless  for  you  to  oppose  me.  We  have  but  little  time  to  spend 
together,  do  not  let  us  quarrel  here  in  hzr  presence.  Let  there 
be  peace  between  us  in  these  last  hours.  Oh,  Russell  !  it  is 
hard  enough  to  part,  even  in  love  and  kindness  ;  do  not  add 
painful  contention,'' 

"  So  you  prefer  utter  strangers  to  your  relatives  and  friends  ?" 

"  Ties  of  blood  are  not  the  strongest  ;  strangers  step  in  to  aid 
where  relatives  sometimes  stand  aloof,  and  watch  a  fatal  strug- 


ALTARS    OF   lACKIFICE.  79 

gle.  Remomber  Irene  ;  who  is  nearer  to  you,  she  or  your  grand- 
father ?  Such  a  friend  Mr.  Clifton  is  to  me,  and  go  to  hiin  I 
will  at  all  hazards.     Drop  the  subject,  if  you  please." 

He  looked  at  her  an  instant,  then  turned  once  more  to  his 
mother's  ftice,  and  his  cousin  left  them  together. 

The  day  was  so  inclement  that  only  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Campbell 
and  Russell's  employer  attended  the  funeral.  These  few  follow- 
ed the  gentle  sleeper,  and  laid  her  down  to  rest  till  the  star  of 
eternity  dawns  ;  and  the  storm  chanted  a  long,  thrilling  requiem 
as  the  wet  mound  rose  above  the  coffin. 

Back  to  a  desert  home,  whence  the  crown  of  joy  had  been 
borne.     What  a  hideous  rack  stands  at  the  hearthstone  whereon 
merciless  memory  stretches  the  bereaved  onee.     In  hours  such  as 
this,  we  cry  out  fiercely  :  "  The  sun  of  our  life  has  gone  down  in 
starless,  everlasting  night ;  earth  has  no  more  glory,  no  more 
bloom  or  fragrance  for  us  ;  the  voices  of  gleeful  children,  the  ca- 
rol of  summer  birds,  take  the  mournful  measure  of  a  dirge.     "We 
hug  this  great  grief  to  o«r  hearts  ;  we  hold  our  darling  dead  con- 
tinually before  us,  and  refuse  to  be  glad  again."     We  forget  that 
Prometheus  has  passed  from  the  world.     Time  bears  precious 
healing  on  its  broad    pinions  ;  folds  its  arms  compassionately 
about  us  as  a  pitying  father  ;  softly  binds  up  the  jagged  wounds, 
drugs  memory,  and  though  the  poisonous  sting  is  occasionally 
thrust  forth,  slie  soon  relapses  hito  stupor.     So  m  the  infinite 
mercy  of  our  God,  close  at  the  heels  of  Azrael,  follow  the  wing- 
ed hours  laden,  like  Sisters  of  Charity,  with  balm  for  the  people. 
The  kind-hearted  pastor  and  his  wife  urged  the  orphans  to  re- 
move to  their  house  for  a  few  days  at  le.ast,  until  the  future  could 
be  mapped  ;  but  they  preferred  to  meet  and  battle  at  once  with 
the  spectre  which  they  knew  stood  waiting  in  the  desolate  cot- 
tage.    At  midnight   a   heavy  sleep  fell  on  Russell,  who  had 
thrown  himself  upon  his  mother's  couch  ;  and,  softly  spreading 
a  shawl  over  him,  Electra  sat  down  by  the  dying  fire  on  the 
kitchen  hearth,  and  looked  her  future  in  the  face.  A  few  da3's  suf- 
ficed to  prepare  for  her  journey  ;  and   a  gentleman  from  New 
York,  who  had  met  her  cousin  in  Mr.  Campbell's  office,  consent- 
ed to  take  charge  of  her,  and  commit  her  to  Mr.  Clifton's  hands. 


80  MACAEIA  :    OR 


The  scanty  furniture  was  sent  to  an  auction-room,  and  a  piece 
of  board  nailed  to  the  gate-post  announced  that  the  cottage 
was  for  rent.  Russell  decided  to  take  his  meals  at  a  board- 
ing-house, and  occupy  a  small  room  over  the  office,  which  Mr. 
Campbell  had  placed  at  his  disposal.  On  the  same  day,  the  cou- 
sins bade  adieu  to  the  only  spot  they  had  called  "home"  for 
many  years,  and  as  Russell  locked  the  door  and  joined  Electra, 
his  melancholy  face  expressed,  far  better  than  words  could  have 
done,  the  pain  it  cost  him  to  quit  the  house  where  his  idolized 
mother  had  lived,  suffered,  and  died.  Mr.  Colton  was  waiting 
for  Electra  at  the  hotel,  whither  the  stage  had  been  driven  for 
passengers  ;  and  as  she  drew  near  and  saw  her  trunk  among 
others  piled  on  top,  she  stopped  and  grasped  Russell's  hand  be- 
tween both  hers.  A  livid  paleness  settled  on  her  face,  while  her 
wild  black  eyes  fastened  on  his  features.  She  might  never  see 
him  again  ;  he  was  far  dearer  to  her  than  her  life  ;  how  could 
she  bear  to  leave  him,  to  put  hundreds  of  miles  between  that  face 
and  her  own  ?  An  icy  hand  clutched  her  heart  as  she  gazed 
into  his  deep,  sad,  beautiful  eyes.  His  feeling  for  her  was  a 
steady,  serene  affection,  such  as  brothers  have  for  dear  young 
sisters,  and  to  give  her  up  now  filled  him  with  genuine,  earnest 
sorrow. 

"  Electra,  it  is  very  hard  to  tell  you  good-by.  You  are  all  I 
have  left,  and  I  shall  be  desolate  indeed  when  you  are  away. 
But  the  separation  will  not  be  long,  I  trust ;  in  a  few  years  we 
shall  be  able  to  have  another  home  ;  and  where  my  home  is, 
yours  must  always  be.  Toil  stretches  before  me  like  a  sandy  de- 
sert, but  I  shall  cross  it  safely  ;  and  then,  Electra,  my  dear  cou- 
sin, we  shall  be  parted  no  more.  I  should  feel  far  better  satisfi- 
ed if  you  were  with  Mrs.  Harden,  but  you  determine  otherwise, 
and,  as  you  told  me  a  few  days  ago,  I  have  no  right  to  control 
you.  Write  to  me  often,  and  believe  that  I  shall  do  all  that  a 
brother  could  for  you.  Mr.  Colton  is  waiting  ;  good-by,  dar- 
ling." 

He  bent  down  to  kiss  her,  and  the  strained,  tortured  look 
that  greeted  him  he  never  forgot.  She  put  her  arms  around  his 
neck,  and  clung  to  him  like  a  shivering  weed  driven  by  rough 


ALTARS    OF    SACKIFICE.  81 

winds  ai^aiiist  a  stone  wall.  lie  removed  her  elaspini^  arms,  and 
led  her  to  Mr.  Coltoii  ;  but  as  the  latter  offered  to  assist  her  into 
the  stage,  she  drew  back,  that  Russell  might  perform  that  office. 
While  he  almost  lifted  her  to  a  seat,  her  fingers  refused  to  re- 
lease his,  and  he  was  forced  to  disengage  them.  Otlier  passen- 
gers entered,  and  the  door  was  closed.  Russell  stood  near  the 
window,  and  said  gently,  pitying  her  suffering  : 

"  Electra,  won't  you  say  good-by  ?" 

She  leaned  out  till  her  cheek  touched  his,  and  in  a  hoarse  tone 
uttered  the  fluttering  words  : 

"  Oh,  Russell,  Russell  !  good-by  !  May  God  have  mercy  on 
me  !" 

And  the  stage  rolled  swiftly  on  ;  men  laughed,  talked,  and 
smoked  ;  an  October  sun  filled  the  sky  with  glory,  and  gilded 
the  trees  on  the  road-side  ;  flame-colored  leaves  flashed  in  the 
air  as  the  wind  tossed  them  before  it  ;  the  deep  continual  thunder 
of  the  foaming  falls  rose  soothingly  from  the  river  banks,  and 
a  wretched  human  thing  pressed  her  bloodless  face  against  tlio 
morocco  lining  of  the  coach,  and  stared  down,  mute  and  tearless, 
into  the  wide  grave  of  her  all — 

"  Fresh  as  the  first  beam  glittering  on  a  sail, 
That  brings  our  friends  up  from  the  under  world  ; 
Sad  as  the  last  which  reddens  over  one 
That  sinks  with  all  we  love  below  the  verge. 
So  sad,  80  fresh,  the  days  that  are  no  more." 


CHAPTER  YII. 

As  tall  tyrannous  weeds  and  rank  unshorn  grass  close  over 
and  crush  out  slender,  pure,  odorous  flowerets  on  a  hill-side,  so 
tlie  defects  of  Irene's  character  swiftly  strengthened  and  devel- 
oped in  the  new  atmosphere  in  which  she  found  herself.  All 
the  fostering  stimulus  of  a  hot-bed  seemed  appKed  to  them,  and 
her  nobler  impulses  were  in  imminent  danger  of  being  entirely 
subdued.     Diogenes  Tenfelsdrockh's  "  Grim  Tartary  Enclosure 


82  macaeta;  or 


of  a  High  Seminary"  is  but  the  prototype  of  hundreds,  scat- 
tered up  and  down  through  Christendom  ;  and  the  associations 
which  surrounded  Irene  were  well  calculated  to  destroy  the 
native  purity  and  unselfishness  of  her  nature.  The  school  was 
on  an  extensive  scale,  thoroughly  fashionable,  and  thither  pupils 
were  sent  from  every  section  of  the  United  States.  As  re- 
garded educational  advantages,  the  institution  was  unexception- 
able ;  the  professors  were  considered  unsui*passed  in  their  several 
de{>artments,  and  every  provision  was  made  for  thorough  tuition. 
But  what  a  Babel  reigned  outside  of  the  recitation  room  I  One 
hundred  and  forty  girls  to  spend  their  recesses  in  envy,  ridicule, 
malice,  and  detraction.  The  homely  squad  banded  in  implacable 
hatred  against  those  whom  nature  had  cast  iu  moulds  of  beauty; 
the  indolent  and  obtuse  ever  on  the  alert  to  decry  the  successful 
efforts  of  their  superiors  ;  the  simply-clad  children  of  parents  in 
straightened  circumstances  feeding  their  discontent  by  gazing 
with  undisguised  envy  at  the  richly-apparalled  darlings  of  for- 
tune ;  and  the  favored  ones  sneering  at  these  unfortunates, 
pluming  themselves  on  wealth,  beauty,  intellect,  as  the  case 
might  be  ;  growing  more  arrogant  and  insufferable  day  by  day. 
A  wretched  climate  this  for  a  fresh,  untainted  soul  ;  and  it  is 
surprising  how  really  fond  parents,  anxious  to  promote  the  im- 
provement of  their  daughters  in  every  respect  hasten  to  place 
them  where  poisonous  vapors  wreathe  and  curl  about  them.  The 
principals  of  such  institutions  are  doubtless  often  conscientious, 
and  strive  to  discharge  their  duty  faithfully  ;  but  the  evils  of 
human  nature  are  obstinate,  difficult  to  subdue  under  even  the 
most  favorable  circumstances  :  and  where  such  a  mass  of  un- 
trained souls  are  turned  into  an  enclosure,  to  amuse  themselves 
at  one  another's  expense,  mischief  is  sure  to  follow.  Anxious  to 
shake  off  the  loneliness  which  so  heavily  oppressed  her,  Irene  at 
first  mingled  freely  among  her  companions  ;  but  she  soon  became 
disgusted  with  the  conduct  and  opinions  of  the  majority,  and  en- 
deavored to  find  quiet  in  her  own  room,  Maria  Ashley,  who 
shared  the  apartment,  was  the  spoiled  child  of  a  Louisiana  plan- 
ter, and  her  views  of  life  and  duty  were  too  utterly  antagonistic 
to  Irene's  to  allow  of  any  pleasure  in  each  other's  society.     To 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  83 

cheat  the  professors  by  ingenious  strataGrems,  and  out-dress  her 
coii)]ianions  seemed  tlie  sum  total  of  the  girl's  aspirations  ;  and 
gradually,  in  lieu  of  the  indifference  she  evinced  toward  her  room- 
mate, a  positive  hatred  made  itself  apparent  in  numberless 
trifles.  Feeling  her' own  superiority,  Irene  held  herself  more 
and  more  aloof;  her  self-complacency  grew  amazingly,  the  grace- 
ful figure  took  a  haughty,  unbending  posture,  aud  a  coldly  con- 
temptuous smile  throned  itself  on  her  lip.  The  inevitable  con- 
sequence was,  that  she  became  a  target  for  the  school.  Tiiu.^ 
the  months  crept  away,  her  father  wrote  rarely,  and  Miss  Mar- 
garet's letters  contained  no  allusion  to  the  family  that  had 
caused  her  banishment.  Finally  she  wrote  to  Dr.  Arnold,  in- 
quiring concerning  Miss  Aubrey,  but  no  reply  reached  her. 
Early  in  winter  a  new  pupil,  a  "  day  scholar,"  joined  her  class  ; 
she  resided  in  New  York,  and  very  soon  a  strong  friendship 
sprung  up  between  them.  Louisa  Young  was  about  Irene's 
age,  very  pretty,  very  gentle,  and  winning  in  her  manners.  She 
was  the  daughter  of  an  affluent  merchant,  aud  was  blessed  in 
the  possession  of  parents  who  strove  to  rear  their  children  as 
Christian  parents  should.  Louisa's  attachment  was  very  warm 
and  lasting,  aud  ere  long  she  insisted  that  her  friend  should  visit 
her.  Weary  of  the  school,  the  latter  gladly  availed  herself  of 
the  invitation,  and  one  Friday  afternoon  she  accompanied 
Louisa  home.  The  mansion  was  almost  palatial,  and  as  Irene 
entered  the  splendidly-furnished  parlors  her  own  Southern  home 
rose  vividly  before  her. 

"  Mother,  this  is  Miss  Huntingdon." 

Mrs.  Young  received  her  cordially,  and  as  she  held  the  gloved 
hand,  and  kindly  expressed  her  pleasure  at  meeting  her 
daughter's  friend,  the  girl's  heart  gave  a  quick  bound  of  joy. 

"  Come  up  stairs  and  put  away  your  bonnet." 

In  Louisa's  beautiful  room  the  two  sat  talking  of  various 
things  till  the  tea-bell  rang.  Mr.  Young's  greeting  was  scarcely 
less  friendly  than  his  wife's,  and  as  they  seated  themselves  at  the 
table,  the  stranger  felt  at  home  for  the  first  time  in  New  York. 

"  Where  is  brother  ?"  asked  Louisa,  glancing  at  the  vacant 
seat  opposite  her  own. 


84  MACARIA  ;    OK, 

"  He  has  not  come  home  yet  ;  I  wonder  what  keeps  him  ? 
There  he  is  now,  in  the  hall,"  answered  the  mother. 

A  moment  after,  he  entered  and  took  his  seat.  He  was  tall, 
rather  handsome,  and  looked  about  thirty.  His  sister  pre- 
sented her  friend,  and  with  a  hasty  bow  he  fastened  his  eyes  on 
her  face.  Probably  he  was  unconscious  of  the  steadiness  of  his 
gaze,  but  Irene  became  restless  under  his  fixed,  earnest  eye,  and 
perceiving  her  embarrassment,  Mrs,  Young  said — 

''  Harvey,  where  have  you  been  ?  Dr.  Melville  called  here 
for  you  at  foui'  o'clock  ;  said  you  had  made  some  engagement 
with  him," 

"  Yes,  mother  ;  we  have  been  visiting  together  this  after- 
noon," 

Withdrawing  his  eyes,  he  seemed  to  fall  into  a  reverie,  and 
took  no  part  in  the  conversation  that  ensued.  As  the  party  ad- 
journed to  the  sitting-room,  he  paused  on  the  rug,  and  leaned 
his  elbow  on  the  mantle,  Louisa  lingered  and  drew  near.  He 
passed  his  arm  around  her  shoulders,  and  looked  ajffectionately 
down  at  her. 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?" 

"  Come  into  the  sitting-room  and  help  me  to  entertain  Irene, 
instead  of  going  off  to  your  stupid  study  ;  do,  Harvey," 

"  A  very  reasonable  request,  truly  !  I  must  quit  my  work  to 
talk  to  one  of  your  schoolmates  ;  nonsense  !    How  old  is  she  ?'' 

"  Fifteen.     Is  not  she  a  beauty  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Oh,  Harvey  I  you  are  so  cold  I  I  thought  you  would  ad- 
mire Irene  prodigiously  ;  and  now  you  say  '  yes'  just  exactly  as 
if  I  had  asked  you  whether  it  was  snowing  out  of  doors." 

"  Which  is  certainly  the  fact  ;  the  first  flakes  fell  as  I  reach- 
ed home." 

He  stepped  to  tlie  window  and  looked  out,  saying  carelessly — 

"  Go  to  your  friend,  and  when  you  are  at  a  loss  for  conversa- 
tion, bring  her  to  my  study  to  see  those  sketches  of  Palmyra 
and  Baalbec." 

He  passed  on  to  his  work,  and  she  to  the  sitting-room.  The 
Btudy  was  simply  the  Ubrary,  handsomely  fitted  up  with  choice 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  85 

old  books  in  rielily-carved  rosewood  cases,  and  antiqtje  ))usts 
peering  down  from  the  tops  of  eacii.  Crimson  damask  curtains 
swept  from  the  ccihng  to  the  carpet,  and  a  hixurious  arm-chair 
sat  before  the  glowing  coal  fire.  Tlio  table  was  covered  with 
books,  and  loose  sheets  of  paper  were  scattered  around,  as  if  the 
occupant  had  been  suddenly  called  from  his  labor.  The  gas 
l)nrned  brightly  ;  all  things  beckoned  back  to  work.  He  sat 
down,  glanced  over  the  half-written  sheets,  numbered  the  pages, 
laid  them  away  in  the  drawer,  and  opened  a  volume  of  St.  Chry- 
sostom.  As  the  light  fell  on  his  countenance,  it  was  very  appa- 
rent that  he  had  been  a  student  for  years  ;  that  his  mind  was 
habituated  to  patient,  laborious  investigation.  Gravity,  utterly 
free  from  sorrow^  or  sternness,  marked  his  face  ;  he  might  have 
passed  all  his  days  in  that  quiet  room,  for  any  impress  which  the 
cares  or  joys  of  out-door  life  had  left  on  his  features  ;  a  strong, 
clear  intellect,  a  lofty,  earnest  soul  ;  a  calm,  unruffled  heart,  that 
knew  not  half  its  own  unsounded  abysses.  He  read  industrious- 
ly for  some  time,  occasionally  pausing  to  annotate  ;  and  once  or 
twice  he  raised  his  head  and  listened,  fancying  footsteps  in  the 
hall.  Finally  he  pushed  the  book  away,  took  a  turn  across  the 
floor,  and  resumed  his  seat.  He  could  not  rivet  his  attention  on 
St.  Chrysostom,  and  folding  his  arms  over  his  chest,  he  studied 
the  red  coals  instead.  Soon  after,  unmistakable  steps  fell  on  his 
ear,  and  a  light  tap  at  the  door  was  followed  by  the  entrance  of 
the  two  girls.  Irene  came  very  reluctantly,  fearful  of  intruding  ; 
but  he  rose,  and  placed  a  chair  for  her  close  to  his  own,  assuring 
her  that  he  was  glad  to  see  her  there.  Louisa  found  the  port- 
folio, and,  bringing  i^  to  the  table,  began  to  exhibit  its  treasures. 
The  two  leaned  over  it,  and  as  Irene  sat  resting  her  cheek  on 
her  hand,  the  beauty  of  her  face  and  figure  was  clearly  revealed. 
Harvey  remained  silent,  watching  the  changing  expression  of  the 
visitor's  countenance  ;  and  once  he  put  out  his  hand  to  touch 
the  hair  floating  over  the  back  and  arms  of  her  chair.  Gradu- 
ally his  still  heart  stirred,  his  brow  flushed,  and  a  new  light  burn- 
ed in  the  deep  clear  eyes. 

"  Louisa,  where  did  you  get  these  ?" 

"  Brother  brought  them  home  when  he  came  from  the  East," 


86  MAC  ART  A  :    OE 


Irene  lifted  her  eyes  to  bis  and  said  : 

''  Did  you  visit  all  these  places  ?  Did  you  go  to  that  crumb- 
ling Temple  of  the  Sun  ?" 

He  told  her  of  his  visit  to  the  old  world,  of  its  mournful  ruins, 
its  decaying  glories  ;  of  the  lessons  he  learned  tliere  ;  the  sad, 
but  precious  memories  he  broiiglit  back,  and  as  he  talked  time 
passed  unheeded — she  forgot  her  embarrassment,  they  were 
strangers  no  longer.     The  clock  struck  ten  ;  Louisa  rose  at  once. 

"  Thank  you,  Harvey,  for  giving  us  so  much  of  your  time. 
Father  and  mother  will  be  waiting  for  you." 

"  Yes,  I  will  join  you  at  once." 
•  She  led  the  way  back  to  the  sitting-room,  and  a  few  moments 
afterward,  to  Irene's  great  surprise,  the  student  came  in,  and  sit- 
ting down  before  the  table,  opened  tlie  Bible  and  read  a  chapter. 
Then  all  knelt  and  he  prayed.  Tiiere  was  a  strange  spell  on  the 
visitor  ;  in  all  this  there  was  something  so  unexpected.  It  was 
the  first  time  she  had  ever  knelt  around  the  family  altar,  and,  as 
she  rose,  that  sitting-room  seemed  suddenly  converted  into  a  tem- 
ple of  worship.  Mutual  "good-nights"  were  exchanged,  and  as 
Irene  turned  toward  the  young  minister,  he  held  out  his  hand. 
She  gave  him  hers,  and  he  pressed  it  gently,  saying  : 

''  I  trust  this  is  the  first  of  many  pleasant  evenings  which  we 
shall  spend  together." 

"  Thank  you,  sir.  I  hope  so  too,  for  I  have  not  been  so  hap- 
py since  I  left  home." 

He  smiled,  and  she  walked  on.  His  mother  looked  up  as  the 
door  closed  behind  her,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  What  a  wonderfully  beautiful  face  she  has  !  Louisa  often 
rhapsodized  about  her,  and  now  I  am  not  at  all  surprised  at  her 
enthusiasm." 

"  Yes,  such  perfection  of  features  as  hers  is  seen  but  once  in  a 
lifetime.  I  have  traveled  over  the  greater  part  of  the  world  ;  I 
have  looked  upon  all  types  of  beauty,  from  the  Andalusia ns, 
whom  Murillo  immortalized,  to  the  far-famed  Circassians  of  Ka- 
barda,  but  never  before  have  I  found  such  a  marvel  of  loveliness 
as  that  girl.     In  Venice  I  spent  a  morning  studying  one  of  Ti- 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  87 

tian's  faces,  which  somewhat  resembles  hers  ;  tli ere  is  an  approxi- 
mation to  tlie  same  golden  hair — t'orminj^  a  nimbus,  as  it  were — 
the  same  contour  of  features,  but  Titian's  picture  laciied  her  pure, 
unsearchable,  indescribable  eyes.  Have  you  noticed  what  a  rare, 
anomalous  color  her  hair  is  ?  There  never  was  but  one  other 
head  like  it  ;  the  threads  of  fine  gold  in  that  celcljraled  lock  of 
her  own  hair,  which  Lucretia  Borgia  gave  Cardinal  Bembo, 
match  Irene  Huntingdon's  exactly.  Well  and  truly  has  it  been 
said  of  that  glittering  relic  in  the  Ambrozian  library,  '  If  ever 
hair  was  golden,  it  is  this  of  Lucretia  Borgia's  ;  it  is  not  red,  it 
is  not  yellow,  it  is  not  auburn  ;  it  is  golden,  and  nothing  else.'. 
I  examined  it  curiously,  and  wondered  whether  the  world  could 
furnish  a  parallel  ;  consequently,  when  that  girl's  head  flashed 
before  me,  I  was  startled.  Stranger  still  than  her  beauty  is  the 
fact  that  it  has  not  spoiled  her  thus  far." 

He  folded  his  arms  over  his  chest  as  if  crushing  out  something. 

His  mother  laughed. 

"  Why,  Harvey  !  What  a  riddle  you  are  I  Take  care,  my 
sou  ;  that  child  would  never  do  for  a  minister's  wife." 

"  Of  course  not  ;  who  ever  dreamed  that  she  would  ?  Good- 
night, mother  ;  I  shall  not  be  at  home  to  breakfast  ;  do  not  wait 
for  me,  I  am  going  to  Long  Island  with  Dr.  Melville.  He 
bent  down  to  receive  her  customary  kiss,  and  went  to  his  own 
room. 

"  Louisa,  how  came  your  brother  to  be  a  minister  ?"  asked 
Irene,  when  they  had  reached  their  apartment. 

"  When  he  was  a  boy  he  said  he  intended  to  preach,  and 
father  never  dissuaded  him.  I  was  quite  young  when  he  went  to 
the  East,  and  since  his  return  he  has  been  so  engrossed  by  his 
theological  studies  that  we  are  rarely  together.  Harvey  is  a 
singular  man — so  silent,  so  equable,  so  cold  in  his  manner,  and 
yet  he  has  a  warm  heart.  He  has  declined  two  calls  since  his 
ordination  ;  Dr.  Melville's  health  is  very  poor,  and  Harvey  fre- 
quently fills  his  pulpit.  Sometimes  he  talks  of  going  West,  where 
ministers  are  scarce  ;  thinks  he  could  do  more  good  there,  but 
mother  will  not  consent  for  him  to  leave  us.      I   am  afraid, 


88  MACARIA  ;    OR, 

though,  he  will  go — he  is  so  determined  when  he  once  makes  up 
his  mind.  He  is  a  dear,  good  brother  ;  I  know  you  will  Uke 
him  when  you  know  him  well  ;  everybody  loves  Harvey." 

The  inclemency  of  the  weather  confined  the  girls  to  the  house 
the  following  day.  Harvey  was  absent  at  breakfast,  and  at  din- 
ner the  chair  opposite  Irene's  was  still  vacant.  The  afternoon 
wore  away,  and  at  dusk  Louisa  opened  the  piano  and  began  to 
play  Thalberg's  "  Home,  Sweet  Home."  Irene  sat  on  a  sofa 
near  the  window,  and  as  she  listened,  visions  of  the  South  rose 
before  her,  till  she  realized — 

"  That  a  sorrow's  crown  of  sorrow  is  remembering  happier  things.'' 

She  longed  inexpressibly  for  her  own  home,  for  her  father,  for 
the  suffering  friends  of  the  cottage,  and,  as  she  thought  of  his 
many  trials,  Russell's  image  was  more  distinct  than  all.  She 
closed  her  eyes,  and  felt  again  his  tight  clasp  of  her  hands  ;  his 
passionate,  pleading  words  sounded  once  more  :  "  Oh,  Irene  I 
believe  in  me  !  believe  in  me  always  !"  It  seemed  to  her  so  un- 
natural, so  cruel  that  they  should  be  separated.  Then  came  the 
memory  of  Mrs.  Aubrey's  words  of  counsel  :  "  Pray  constantly; 
keep  yourself  unspotted  from  the  world."  What  would  the 
blind  woman  think  if  she  knew  all  the  proud,  scornful,  harsh  feel- 
ings which  were  now  in  her  heart  ?  A  sensation  of  deep  contri- 
tion and  humiliation  came  upon  her  ;  she  knew  she  was  fast 
losing  the  best  impulses  of  her  nature,  and  experienced  keen 
regret  that  she  had  yielded  to  the  evil  associations  and  tempta- 
tions of  the  school.  How  could  she  hope  to  grow  better  under 
such  circumstances  ?  What  would  become  of  her  ?  The  snow 
drifted  against  the  panes,  making  fairy  fretwork,  and  through 
the  feathery  flakes  the  gaslight  at  the  corner  burned  steadily  on. 
"  So  ought  the  light  of  conscience  to  burn,"  thought  she  ;  "  so 
ought  I  to  do  my  duty,  no  matter  how  I  am  situated.  That 
light  is  all  the  more  necessary  because  it  is  stormy  and  dark." 

Somebody  took  a  seat  near  her,  and  though  the  room  was  dim 
she  knew  the  tall  form  and  the  touch  of  his  hand. 

"  Good-evening,  Miss  Irene  ;  we  have  had  a  gloomy  day.  How 
have  you  and  Louisa  spent  it  ?" 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  89 

"  Xot  very  profitably  I  daresay,  though  it  has  not  appeared 
at  all  gloomy  to  me.     Have  you  been  out  in  the  snow  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  work  has  been  sad.  I  buried  a  mother  and  child 
this  afternoon,  and  have  just  come  from  a  house  of  orphanage 
and  grief.  It  is  a  difficult  matter  to  realize  how  many  aching 
hearts  there  are  in  this  great  city.  Our  mahogany  doors  shut 
out  the  wail  that  hourly  goes  up  to  God  from  the  thousand  suf- 
ferers in  our  midst." 

Just  then  a  servant  lighted  the  chandelier,  and  she  saw  that 
he  looked  graver  than  ever.  Louisa  came  up  and  put  her  arm 
around  his  neck,  but  he  did  not  return  the  caress  ;  said  a  few 
kind  words,  and  rising,  slowly  paced  the  floor.  As  his  eye  fell 
on  the  piano  he  paused,  saying,  "  Come,  Louisa,  sing  that  song 
for  me." 

She  sat  down,  and  began  "  Comfort  ye  my  people  :"  and 
gradually  the  sadness  melted  from  his  features.  As  Irene  listened 
to  the  solemn  strains  she  found  it  difficult  to  control  her  feelings, 
and  by  degrees  her  head  sank  until  it  touched  the  arm  of  the 
sofa.  The  minister  watched  the  effect  of  the  music,  and,  resum- 
ing his  seat,  said  gently — 

"  It  is  genuine  philosophy  to  extract  comfort  and  aid  from 
every  possible  source.  There  is  a  vast  amount  of  strength 
needed  to  combat  the  evils  and  trials  which  necessarily  occur  in 
even  the  sunniest,  happiest  lives  ;  and  I  find  that  sometimes  I 
derive  far  more  from  a  song  than  a  lengthy  sermon.  We  are 
curious  bits  of  mechanism,  and  frequently  music  effects  what 
learned  disputation  or  earnest  exhortation  could  not  accomplish. 
I  remember  once,  when  I  was  a  child,  I  had  given  my  mother  a 
great  deal  of  trouble  by  my  obstinacy.  She  had  entreated  me, 
reasoned  with  me,  and  finally  punished  me,  but  all  to  no  purpose  ; 
my  wickedness  had  not  been  conquered.  I  was  bitter  and  rebel- 
lious, and  continued  so  all  day.  That  evening  she  sat  down  to 
the  piano  and  sang  a  hymn  for  my  father.  The  instant  the 
strains  fell  on  my  ear  I  felt  softened,  crept  down  stairs  to  the 
parlor-door,  and  before  she  had  finished  was  crying  heartily,  beg- 
ging her  forgiveness.  When  a  sublime  air  is  made  the  vehicle 
of  a  noble  sentiment  there  is  no  computing  the  amount  of  good 


90  MACARIA  ;    OR, 

it  accomplishes,  if  properly  directed.  During  my  visit  to  Lon- 
don, I  went  to  hear  a  very  celebrated  divine.  I  had  just  lost  a 
dear  friend,  the  companion  who  traveled  with  me  to  Jerusalem 
and  Meroe,  and  I  went  to  church  full  of  sorrow.  The  sermon 
was  able,  but  had  no  more  effect  in  comforting  me  than  if  I  had 
not  listened  to  it.  He  preached  from  that  text  of  Job  treating 
of  the  resurrection,  and  at  the  conclusion  the  very  words  of  his 
text,  '  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth,'  were  sung  by  the  choir. 
When  the  organ  rolled  its  solemn  tones  under  the  dim  arched 
roof,  and  I  heard  the  voices  of  the  choir  swelling  deep  and  full — 

'  Throb  through  the  ribbed  stone,' 

then,  and  not  till  then,  I  appreciated  the  grand  words  to  which 
I  had  listened.  The  organ  spoke  to  my  soul  as  man  could  not, 
and  I  left  the  church  calm  and  comforted.  All  things  are  capa- 
ble of  yielding  benefit,  if  properly  applied,  though  it  is  a  lament- 
able truth  that  gross  abuse  has  involved  many  possible  sources 
of  good  in  disrepute  ;  and  it  is  our  duty  to  extract  elevating  in- 
fluences from  all  departments.  Such  an  alchemy  is  especially 
the  privilege  of  a  Christian," 

As  he  talked  she  lifted  her  beautiful  eyes  and  looked  steadily 
at  him,  and  he  thought  that,  of  all  the  lovely  things  he  had  ever 
seen,  that  face  was  the  most  peerless.  She  drew  closer  to  him, 
and  said  earnestly  : 

"Then  you  ought  to  be  happy,  Mr.  Young." 

"  That  implies  a  doubt  that  1  am." 

"  You  do  not  seem  to  me  a  very  happy  man." 

"  There  you  mistake  me.  I  presume  there  are  few  happier 
persons." 

"  Countenance  is  not  a  faithful  index,  then  ;  you  look  so  ex- 
ceedingly grave." 

"  Do  you  suppose  that  gravity  of  face  is  incompatible  with 
sunshine  in  the  heart  ?" 

"  I  think  it  reasonable  that  the  sunshine  should  sparkle  in  the 
eyes  and  gleam  over  the  features.  But,  sir,  I  should  like, 
if  you  please,  to  talk  to  you  a  little  about  other  things. 
May  I  ?" 


ALTARS    OF    6ACKIFICE.  91 

"  Certainly  ;  speak  on,  and  speak  freely  ;  you  may  trnst  me, 
I  think." 

He  smiled  encouragingly  as  he  spoke,  and  without  a  moment's 
tliouglit  she  laid  her  delicate  hand  in  his. 

"  Mr.  Young,  I  want  somebody  to  advise  me.  Yery  often  I 
am  at  a  loss  about  my  duty,  and,  having  no  one  to  consult,  either 
do  nothing  at  all  or  that  which  I  should  not.  If  it  will  not 
trouble  you  too  much,  I  should  like  to  bring  my  difficulties  to 
you  sometimes,  and  get  you  to  direct  me.  If  you  will  only  talk 
frankly  to  me,  as  you  do  to  Louisa,  oh  I  I  will  be  very 
grateful." 

He  folded  his  hands  softly  over  the-  white,  fluttering  fingers. 

"  Louisa  is  my  sister,  and  therefore  I  do  not  hesitate  to  tell 
her  unwelcome  truths.  But  you  happen  to  be  a  perfect  stran- 
ger, and  might  not  relish  my  counsel." 

''  Try  me)' 

"  How  old  are  you  ?    Pardon  my  inquisitiveness.'* 

"  Fifteen." 

"  An  age  when  young  ladies  prefer  flattery  to  truth.  Have 
you  no  brother  ?" 

"  I  am  an  only  child." 

"  You  would  like  a  brother,  however  ?" 

"Yes,  sir,  above  all  things." 

"  Take  care  ;  you  express  yourself  strongly.  If  you  can  fancy 
me  for  a  brother,  consider  me  such.  One  thing  I  can  promise, 
you  will  have  a  guardian  sleepless  as  Ladon,  and  untiring  in  his 
efforts  to  aid  you  as  if  he  were  in  truth  a  Briareus.  If  you  are 
uot  afraid  of  espionage,  make  me  your  brother.  What  say  you  ?" 

*'  I  am  not  afraid,  sir  ;  I  believe  I  need  watching." 

"  Ah,  that  you  do  !"  he  exclaimed  with  unusual  emphasis. 

"  He  can  be  very  stern,  Irene,  gentle  as  he  looks,"  suggested 
Louisa. 

"  If  he  never  found  fault  with  me  I  should  not  need  his  friend- 
ship." 

When  Monday  morning  came,  and  she  was  abliged  to  return 
to  school,  Irene  reluctantly  bade  farewell  to  the  new  friends. 
She  knew  that,  in  conformity  to  the  unalterable  regulations  of 


92  MACAEIA  ;    OR, 

Ci'im  Tartary,  she  conld  only  leave  the  institution  once  a  month, 
and  the  prospect  of  this  long  interval  between  her  visits  wsls  by 
no  means  cheering.     Harvey  assisted  her  into  the  carriage. 

"  I  shall  send  you  some  books  in  a  day  or  two,  and  if  you  are 
troubled  about  anything  before  I  see  you  again,  write  me  a  note 
by  Louisa.  I  would  call  to  see  you  occasionally  if  you  were 
boarding  anywhere  else.  Good-morning,  Miss  Irene  ;  do  not 
forget  that  I  am  your  brother  so  long  as  you  stay  in  New  York, 
or  need  one." 

The  books  were  not  forgotten  ;  they  arrived  the  ensuing 
week,  and  his  selection  satisfied  her  that  he  perfectly  understood 
what  kind  of  aid  she  required.  Her  visit  made  a  lasting  impres- 
sion on  her  mind,  and  the  Sabbath  spent  in  Louisa's  home  often 
recurred  to  her  in  after  years,  as  the  memory  of  some  green, 
sunny  isle  of  rest  haunts  the  dreams  of  weary,  tempest-lashed  ma- 
riners in  a  roaring  sea.  Maria  Ashley  was  a  sore  trial  of  pa- 
tience, and  occasionally,  after  a  fruitless  struggle  to  rise  above 
the  temptations  presented  almost  hourly,  Irene  looked  longingly 
toward  Louisa's  fireside  as  one  turns  to  the  last  source  of  sup- 
port. Finally  she  took  refuge  in  silence,  and,  except  when  com- 
pelled to  do  so,  rarely  commented  upon  anything  that  occurred. 
The  days  were  always  busy,  and  when  the  text-books  were  fin- 
ished, she  had  recourse  to  those  supplied  by  her  new  friends.  At 
the  close  of  the  next  month,  instead  of  accompanying  Louisa 
home,  Irene  was  suffering  with  severe  cold,  and  too  much  indis- 
posed to  quit  the  house.  This  was  a  grievous  disappointment, 
but  she  bore  it  bravely,  and  went  on  with  her  studies.  What  a 
dreary  isolation  in  the  midst  of  numbers  of  her  own  age.  It  was 
a  thraldom  that  galled  her  ;  and  more  than  once  she  implored 
her  father's  permission  to  return  home.  His  replies  were  positive 
denials,  and  after  a  time  she  ceased  to  expect  release,  until  the 
prescribed  course  should  be  ended.  Thus  another  month  dragged 
itself  away.  On  Friday  morning  Louisa  was  absent.  Irene  felt 
anxious  and  distressed  ;  perhaps  she  was  ill,  something  must 
have  happened.  As  the  day-pupils  were  dismissed  she  started 
back  to  her  own  room,  heart-sick  because  of  this  second  disap- 
pointment.    "After  all,"  thought  she,  "  I  may  as  well  accustom 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  93 

iiiy.sclf  to  bcM'no^  alone.  Of  course,  I  can't  have  tlie  Yoiings  al- 
ways. I  must  learn  to  depend  on  myself."  She  put  away  the 
bonnet  and  cloak  laid  out  in  readiness  for  departure,  and  sat 
down  to  write  to  her  aunt  Margaret.  A  few  minutes  after,  a 
servant  knocked  at  the  door  and  informed  her  that  a  gentleman 
wished  to  see  her  in  the  parlor. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"  I  AM  so  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Young.  Louisa  is  not  sick, 
I  hope  ?" 

"  I  came  for  you  in  Louisa's  place ;  she  is  not  well  enough 
to  quit  her  room.  Did  you  suppose  that  I  intended  leaving  you 
here  for  another  month  /"' 

"  I  was  rather  afraid  you  had  forgotten  me ;  the  prospect 
was  gloomy  ten  minutes  ago.  It  seems  a  long  time  since  I  was 
with  you," 

She  stood  close  to  him,  looking  gladly  into  his  face,  uncon- 
scious of  the  effect  of  her  words. 

"  You  sent  me  no  note  all  this  time ;  why  not  ?" 

"  I  was  afraid  of  troubling  you  ;  and,  besides,  I  would  rather 
tell  you  what  I  want  you  to  know." 

"  Miss  Irene,  the  carriage  is  at  the  door.  I  am  a  patient 
man,  and  can  wait  half  an  hour  if  you  have  any  preparation  to 
make." 

In  much  less  time  she  joined  him,  equipped  for  the  ride,  and 
took  her  place  beside  him  in  the  carnage.  As  they  reached  his 
father's  door,  and  he  assisted  her  out,  she  saw  him  look  at  her 
very  searchingly. 

"  It  is  time  that  you  had  a  little  fresh  air.  You  are  not 
quite  yourself     Louisa  is  m  her  room;  run  up  to  her." 

She  found  her  friend  suffering  with  sore  throat,  and  was 
startled  at  the  appearance  of  her  flushed  cheeks.  Mrs.  Young 
sat   beside   her,  and   after   most  cordial  greetings  the   latter 


9i  MACARIA  ;    OE, 

resigned  her  seat  and  left  thera,  enjoining  upon  her  daughter 
the  necessity  of  remaining  quiet. 

*'  Mother  was  almost  afraid  for  you  to  come,  but  I  teazed  and 
coaxed  for  permission  ;  told  her  that  even  if  I  had  the  scarlet 
fever  you  had  already  had  it,  and  would  run  no  risk.  Harvey 
says  it  is  not  scarlet  fever  at  all,  and  he  persuaded  mother  to 
let  him  go  after  you.  He  always  has  things  his  own  way, 
though  he  brings  it  about  so  quietly  that  nobody  would  ever 
suspect  him  of  being  self-willed.  Harvey  is  a  good  friend  of 
your's,  Irene." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it ;  he  is  certainly  very  kind  to  me. 
But  recollect  you  are  not  to  talk  much,  let  me  talk  to  you." 

Mrs.  Young  sent  up  tea  for  both,  and  about  nine  o'clock,  Mr. 
Young  and  his  son  both  entered.  Ljuisa  had  fallen  asleep 
holding  Irene's  hand,  and  her  father  cautiously  felt  the  pulse 
and  examined  the  countenance.  The  fever  had  abated,  and 
bending  down,  Harvey  said  softly  : 

"  Can't  you  release  your  hand  without  waking  her  ?" 

"  I  am  afraid  not ;  have  prayer  without  me  to-night." 

After  the  gentlemen  withdrew,  Mrs.  Young  and  Irene  watch- 
ed the  sleeper  till  midnight,  when  she  awoke.  The  following 
morning  found  her  much  better,  and  Irene  and  the  mother 
spent  the  day  in  her  room.  Late  in  the  afternoon  the  minister 
came  in  and  talked  to  his  sister  for  some  moments,  then  turned 
to  his  mother. 

"  Mother,  I  am  going  to  take  this  visitor  of  yours  down  to 
the  library;  Louisa  has  monopolized  her  long  enough.  Come, 
Miss  Irene,  you  shall  join  them  again  at  tea." 

He  led  the  way,  and  she  followed  very  willingly.  Placing 
her  in  a  chair  before  the  fire,  he  drew  another  to  the  rug ;  and 
seating  himself,  said  just  as  if  speaking  to  Louisa  : 

"  What  have  you  been  doing  these  two  months  ?  "What  is  it 
that  clouds  your  face,  my  little  sister  ?" 

"Ah,  eir  !  I  am  so  weary  of  that  school.  You  don't  know 
what  a  relief  it  is  to  come  here." 

"  It  is  rather  natural  that  you  should  feel  homesick.  It  is  a 
fierce  ordeal  for  a  child  like  you  to  be  thrust  so  far  from  home." 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  95 

**  I  am  not  homesick  now,  I  believe.  I  have  in  some  degree 
become  accustomed  to  the  separation  from  my  father ;  but  I 
am  growing  so  different  from  what  I  used  to  be  ;  so  different 
from  what'  I  expected.  It  grieves  me  to  know  that  I  am 
changing  for  the  worse  ;  but,  somehow,  I  can't  help  it.  I  make 
good  resolutions  in  the  morning  before  I  leave  my  room,  and 
by  noon  I  manage  to  break  all  of  them.  The  girls  try  me  and 
1  lose  my  patience.  When  I  am  at  home  nothing  of  this  kind 
ever  troubles  me.  I  know  you  think  me  very  weak,  and  I  dare 
say  I  am ;  still  I  try  much  harder  than  you  think  I  do." 

"  If  you  never  yielded  to  temptation  you  would  be  more  than 
mortal.  We  are  all  prone  to  err  ;  and.  Miss  Irene,  did  it  never 
occur  to  you,  that,  though  you  may  be  overcome  by  the  evil 
prompting,  yet  the  struggle  to  resist  btrengthened  you  ?  So 
long  as  life  lasts  this  conflict  will  be  waged ;  though  you  have 
not  always  succeeded  thus  far,  earnest  prayer  and  faithful  re- 
solve will  enable  you  to  conquer.  Look  to  a  merciful  and 
watchful  God  for  assistance  ;  '  divine  knowledge  took  the  mea- 
sure of  every  human  necessity,  and  divine  love  and  power  gath- 
ered into  salvation  a  more  than  adequate  provision.'  Louisa 
has  t'^ld  me  the  nature  of  the  trials  that  beset  you,  and  that 
you  still  strive  to  rise  superior  to  them  ought  to  encourage  you. 
The  books  which  I  sent  were  calculated  to  aid  you  in  your 
efforts  to  be  gentle,  forgiving,  and  charitable  under  adverse 
circumstances.  I  use  the  word  charity  in  its  broad,  deep,  true 
significance.  Of  all  charities  mere  money-giving  is  the  least ; 
sympathy,  kind  words,  gentle  judgments,  a  friendly  pressure  of 
weary  hands,  an  encouraging  smile,  will  frequently  outweigh  a 
mint  of  coins.  Bear  this  in  mind,  selfishness  is  the  real  root 
of  all  the  evil  in  the  world  ;  people  are  too  isolated,  too  much 
wrapped  up  in  their  individual  rights,  interests,  or  enjoyments. 
I,  Me,  Mine,  is  the  God  of  the  age.  There  are  many  noble 
exceptions ;  philanthropic  associations  abound  in  our  cities,  and 
individual  instances  of  generous  self-denial  now  and  then  flash 
out  upon  us.  But  we  ought  to  live  more  for  others  than  we 
do.     Instead  of  the  narrow  limits  which  restrict   so  many,  the 


96  MACAEIA  ;    OR, 

whole  family  of  the  human  race  should  possess  our  cordial  sym- 
pathy. In  proportion  as  we  interest  ourselves  in  promoting  the 
good  and  happiness  of  others  our  natures  become  elevated,  en- 
larged ;  our  capacities  for  enjoyment  are  developed  and  increas- 
ed. The  happiest  man  I  ever  knew  was  a  missionary  in  Syria. 
He  had  abandoned  home,  friends,  and  country;  but,  in  labor- 
ing for  the  weal  of  strangers,  enjoyed  a  peace,  a  serenity,  a 
deep  gladness,  such  as  not  the  wealth  of  the  Rothchildrf  could 
purchase.  Do  not  misapprehend  me.  All  cannot  be  missiona- 
ries in  the  ordinary  acceptation  of  that  term.  I  believe  that 
very  few  are  really  called  to  spend  their  lives  under  inclement 
skies,  in  dreary  by-corners  of  the  earth,  amid  hostile  tribes. 
But  true  missionary  work  lies  at  every  man's  door,  at  every 
woman's;  and,  my  little  sister,  yours  waits  for  you,  staring  at 
you  daily.  ^Do  the  work  that  lies  nearest  to  thee^  Let  me 
give  you  the  rule  of  a  profound  thinker,  who  might  have 
accomplished  incalculable  good  had  he  walked  the  narrow, 
winding  path  which  he  stood  afar  off  and  pointed  out  to  others  ; 
*  know  that  thou  canst  work  at,  and  work  at  it  like  a  Hercu- 
lus;'  and  amid  the  holy  hills  of  Jerusalem,  the  voice  of  Inspi- 
ration exclaimed  ;  '  Whatsoever  thy  hand  findeth  to  do,  do  it 
with  thy  might.' " 

His  low  voice  fell  soothingly  on  her  ear  ;  new  energy  kindled, 
new  strength  was  infused,  as  she  listened,  and  she  said  hastily  : 

"It  would  be  an  easy  matter  to  do  all  this,  if  I  had  somebody 
like  you  always  near  to  direct  me." 

"  Then  there  would  be  no  glory  in  conquering.  Every  soul 
has  trials  which  must  be  borne  without  any  assistance,  save  that 
which  the  Father  mercifully  bestows.  Remember  the  sublime 
words  of  Isaiah  :  '  I  have  trodden  the  wine-press  alone  ;  and  of 
the  people  there  was  none  with  me.  And  I  looked,  and  there 
was  none  to  help,  and  I  wondered  that  there  was  none  to  uj> 
hold  ;  therefore  mine  own  arm  brought  salvation  unto  me.' 
Miss  Irene,  yoia,  too,  must  '  tread  the  ivinc-press  alone  J  " 
•  She  held  her  breath  and  looked  up  at  him  ;  the  solemn  em- 
phasis of  his  words  startled  her  ;  they  fell  upon  her  weighty  as 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  97 

prophecy,  adumbrating  weary  years  of  ceaseless  struggling.  The 
firelight  glowed  on  her  sculptured  features,  and  he  saw  an  ex- 
pression of  vague  dread  in  her  glance. 

"  Miss  Irene,  yours  is  not  a  clinging,  dependent  disposition  ; 
if  I  have  rightly  understood  your  character,  you  have  never  been 
accustomed  to  lean  ui)on  others.  After  relying  on  yourself  so 
long,  why  yield  to  mistrust  now  ?  With  years  should  grow  the 
power,  the  determination,  to  do  the  work  you  find  laid  out  for 
you." 

"  It  is  precisely  because  I  know  how  very  poorly  I  have  man- 
aged myself  thus  far  that  I  have  no  confidence  in  my  own  pow- 
ers for  future  emergencies.  Either  I  have  lived  alone  too  long, 
or  else  not  long  enough  ;  I  rather  think  the  last.  If  they  had 
only  suffered  me  to  act  as  I  wished,  I  should  have  been  so  much 
better  at  home.  Oh,  sir  !  I  am  not  the  girl  I  was  eight  months 
ago.     I  knew  how  it  would  be  when  they  sent  me  here." 

Resting  her  chin  in  her  hands,  she  gazed  sadly  into  the  grate, 
and  saw,  amid  glowing  coals,  the  walls  of  the  vine-clad  cottage, 
tlie  gentle  face  of  the  blind  woman  groping  her  way,  the  melan- 
choly eyes  of  one  inexpressibly  dear  to  her. 

•'  We  can  not  always  live  secluded,  and  at  some  period  of  your 
life  vou  would  have  been  forced  to  enter  the  world  and  combat 
its  troubles,  even  had  you  never  seen  New  York.  It  is  compar- 
atively easy  for  anchorites  to  preserve  a  passionless,  equable  tem- 
perament ;  but  to  ignore  the  very  circumstances  and  relations  of 
locial  existence  in  which  God  intended  that  we  should  be  puiified 
And  ennobled  by  trial  is  both  sinful  and  cowardly." 

Taking  a  small  volume  from  the  table,  he  read  impressively  : 

"  What  are  we  set  on  earth  for  ?    Say  to  toil ; 
Nor  seek  to  leave  thy  tending  of  the  vines, 
For  all  the  heat  o'  the  day,  till  it  declines, 
And  death's  mild  curfew  shall  from  work  assoiL 
God  did  anoint  thee  with  His  odorous  oil, 

To  wrestle,  not  to  reign so  others  shall 

Take  patience,  labor,  to  their  heart  and  hand, 
From  thy  hand,  and  thy  heart,  and  thy  brave  cheer, 
And  God's  grace  fructify  through  thee  to  all." 

6 


98  MACAETA  ;    OK, 

•'  Some  portentous  cloud  seems  lowering  over  your  future. 
What  is  it  ?  You  ought  to  be  a  gleeful  girl,  full  of  happy 
hopes.'* 

She  sank  farther  back  in  her  chair  to  escape  his  searching  gaze, 
and  drooped  her  face  lower. 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  I  know  I  ought,  but  one  can't  always  shut  their 
eyes." 

"  Shut  their  eyes  to  what  ?^ 

"  Various  coming  troubles,  Mr.  Young." 

His  lip  curled  slightly,  and,  replacing  the  book  on  the  table, 
he  said,  as  if  speaking  rather  to  himself  than  to  her  : 

"  The  heart  knowcth  his  own  bitterness,  and  a  stranger  doth 
not  intermeddle  with  his  joy." 

"  You  are  not  a  stranger,  sir." 

"I  see  you  are  disposed  to  consider  me  such.  I  thought  I 
was  your  brother.  But  no  matter  ;  after  a  time  all  will  be 
well." 

She  looked  puzzled  ;  and,  as  the  tea-bell  summoned  them,  he 
merely  added  : 

"I  do  .not  wonder.  You  are  a  shy  child  ;  but  you  will  soou 
learn  to  understand  me  ;  you  will  come  to  me  with  all  your  sor- 
rows." 

During  the  remainder  of  this  visit  she  saw  him  "no  more. 
Louisa  recovered  rapidly,  and  when  she  asked  for  her  brother  on 
Sabbath  evening,  Mrs.  Young  said  he  was  to  preach  twice  that 
day.  Monday  morning  arrived,  and  Irene  returned  to  school 
with  a  heavy  heart,  fearing  that  she  had  wounded  him  ;  but  a 
few  days  after,  Louisa  brought  her  a  book  and  brief  note  of  kind 
words.  About  this  time  she  noticed  in  her  letters  from  home, 
allusions  to  her  own  future  lot,  which  increased  her  uneasiness. 
It  was  very  palpable  that  her  father  expected  her  to  accede  to 
his  wishes  regarding  a  union  with  her  cousin  ;  and  she  knew  only 
too  well  how  fierce  was  the  contest  before  her.  Husrh  wrote 
kindly,  affectionately  ;  and  if  she  could  have  divested  her  mind 
of  this  apprehension,  his  letters  would  have  comforted  her.  Thus 
situated  she  turned  to  her  books  with  redoubled  zest,  and  her 
naturally  fine  intellect  was  taxed  to  the  utmost.     Her  well-earn- 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  99 

ed  pre-eminence  in  her  classes  increased  the  jcalonsv,  the  dislike, 
and  censoriousncss  of  her  less  studious  companions.  Months 
passed  ;  and  though  she  preserved  acahn,  impenetrable  exterior, 
taking  no  heed  of  sneers  and  constant  persecution,  yet  the  worm 
gnawed  its  slow  way,  and  the  })lague-spot  spread  in  that  wiiilom 
pure  spirit.  One  Saturday  morning  she  sat  quite  alone  in  her 
small  room  ;  the  week  had  been  specially  painful,  and,  wearied 
in  soul,  the  girl  laid  her  head  down  on  her  folded  arms,  and 
thought  of  her  home  in  the  far  South.  The  spicy  fragrance  of 
orange  and  magnolia  came  to  her,  and  Erebus  and  Paragon 
haunted  her  recollection.  Oh  !  for  one  ride  through  the  old 
pine-woods.  Oh  !  for  one  look  at  the  water-lilies  bending  over 
the  creek.  Only  one  wretched  year  had  passed,  how  could  she 
endure  those  which  were  to  come  !  A  loud  rap  startled  her  from 
this  painful  reverie,  and  ere  she  could  utter  the  stereotyped 
"  come  in,"  Louisa  sprang  to  her  side. 

"  1  have  come  for  you,  Irene  ;  have  obtained  permission  from 
Dr.  —  for  you  to  accompany  us  to  the  Academy  of  Design. 
Put  on  your  bonnet  ;  Harvey  is  waiting  in  the  reception  room. 
We  shall  have  a  charmins;  dav." 

"  Ah,  Louisa  !  you  are  all  very  kind  to  recollect  me  so  con- 
stantly.    It  will  give  me  great  pleasure  to  go." 

When  they  joined  the  minister,  Irene  fancied  he  received  her 
coldly,  and  as  they  walked  on  he  took  no  part  in  the  conversa- 
tion. The  annual  exhibition  had  just  opened  ;  the  rooms  were 
thronged  with  visitors,  and  the  hushed  tones  swelled  to  a  monot- 
onous hum.  Some  stood  in  groups,  expatiating  eagerly  on  cer- 
tain pictures  ;  others  occupied  the  seats  and  leisurely  scanned 
now  the  paintings,  now  the  crowd.  Furnished  with  a  catalogue, 
the  girls  moved  slowly  on,  while  Mr.  Young  pointed  out  the 
prominent  beauties  or  defects  of  the  works  exhibited.  They 
made  the  circuit  of  the  room,  and  began  a  second  tour,  when 
their  attention  was  attracted  by  a  girl  who  stood  in  one  corner, 
with  her  hands  clasped  behind  her.  She  was  gazing  very  intent- 
ly on  an  Ecce-Homo,  and,  though  her  face  was  turned  toward 
the  wall,  the  posture  bespoke  most  unusual  interest.  She  was 
dressed  in  black,  and,  having  removed  her  straw  hat,  the  rii)pliug 


1 00  MACAKIA  ;    OR, 

jetty  hair,  cot  short  like  a  boy's,  glistened  in  the  mellow  light. 
Irene  looked  at  her  an  instant,  and  held  her  breath  ;  she  had 
seen  only  one  other  head  which  resembled  that — she  knew  the 
purplish  waving  hair.  "  What  is  the  matter  ?"  asked  the  min- 
ister, noting  the  change  in  her  countenance.  She  made  no  an- 
swer, but  leaned  forward  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  face.  Just 
then  the  black  figure  moved  slightly  ;  she  saw  the  profile,  the 
beautiful  straight  nose,  the  arched  brow,  the  clear  olive  cheek  ; 
and  gliding  up  to  her  she  exclaimed  : 

"  Electra  !  Electra  Grey  I" 

The  orphan  turned,  and  they  were  locked  in  a  tight  embrace. 

"  Oh,  Irie  !  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you.  I  have  been  here  so 
long,  and  looked  for  you  so  often,  that  I  had  almost  despaired. 
Whenever  I  walk  down  Broadway,  whenever  I  go  out  anywhere, 
I  look  at  every  face,  peep  into  every  bonnet,  hoping  to  find  you. 
Oh  !  I  am  so  glad." 

Joy  flushed  the  cheeks  and  fired  the  deep  eyes,  and  people 
turned  from  the  canvas  on  the  walls  to  gaze  upon  two  faces 
surpassing  in  beauty  aught  that  the  Academy  contained. 

"  But  what  are  you  doing  in  Xew  York,  Electra  ?  Is  Russell 
with  you  ?     How  long  have  you  been  here  ?" 

"  Since  October  last.  Russell  is  at  home  ;  no,  he  has  no  home 
now.  When  my  aunt  died  we  separated  ;  I  came  on  to  study 
under  Mr.  Clifton's  care.      Have  you  not  heard  of  our  loss  ?" 

"  I  have  been  able  to  hear  nothing  of  you.  I  wrote  to  Dr. 
Arnold,  inquiring  after  you,  but  he  probably  never  received  my 
letter." 

''  And  your  father  ?"  queried  Electra  proudly. 

"  Father  told  me  nothing." 

"  Is  the  grave  not  deep  enough  for  his  hate  ?" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  You  don't  probably  know  all  that  I  do  ;  but  this  is  no  place 
to  discuss  such  matters  ;  sometime  we  will  talk  of  it.  Do  come 
and  see  me  soon — soon.     I  must  go  now,  I  promised." 

"  Where  do  you  live  ?  I  will  go  home  with  you  now." 

"  I  am  not  going  home  immediately.  Mr.  Clifton's  house  is 
No.  85  West street.     Come  this  afternoon." 


ALTAKS    OF    SACRIFICE.  lOl 

Witli  a  long,  warm  pressure  of  hands  they  parted,  and  Irene 
stood  looking  after  the  graceful  figure  till  it  glided  out  of  siglit. 

'*  In  the  name  of  wonder,  who  is  that  ?  You  two  liave  been 
the  '  observed  of  all  observers,' "  ejaculated  the  impulsive 
Louisa. 

"  That  is  my  old  schoolmate  and  friend  of  whom  T  once  spoke 
to  you.  I  had  no  idea  that  she  was  in  New  York.  She  is  a 
poor  orphan." 

"  Are  you  ready  to  return  home  ?  This  episode  has  evidently 
driven  pictures  out  of  your  head  for  to-day,"  said  Mr.  Young,  who 
bad  endeavored  to  screen  her  from  observation. 

"  Yes,  quite  ready  to  go,  though  I  have  enjoyed  the  morning 
very  much  indeed,  thanks  to  your  kindness." 

Soon  after  they  reached  home,  Louisa  was  called  into  the  par- 
lor to  see  a  young  friend,  and  as  Mrs.  Young  was  absent,  Irene 
found  it  rather  lonely  up  stairs.  She  thought  of  a  new  volume 
of  travels  which  she  had  noticed  on  the  hall-table  as  they  enter- 
ed, and  started  down  to  get  it.  About  half-way  of  the  flight  of 
steps  she  caught  her  foot  in  the  carpeting,  where  one  of  the  rods 
chanced  to  be  loose,  and  despite  her  efforts  to  grasp  the  railing 
fell  to  the  floor  of  the  hall,  crushing  one  arm  under  her.  The 
llbrary-duor  was  thrown  open  instanth^,  and  the  minister  came 
out.     She  lay  motionless,  and  he  bent  over  her. 

"  Irene  !  where  are  you  hurt  ?     Speak  to  me." 

He  raised  her  in  his  arms  and  placed  her  on  the  sofa  in  the 
sitting-room.  The  motion  produced  great  pain,  and  she  groaned 
and  shut  her  eyes.  A  crystal  vase  containing  some  exquisite 
perfume  stood  on  his  mother's  work-table,  and,  pouring  a  por- 
tion of  its  contents  in  his  palm,  he  bathed  her  forehead.  Acute 
suffering  distorted  her  features,  and  his  face  grew  pallid  as  her 
own  while  he  watched  her.     Taking  her  hand,  he  repeated  : 

"  Irene,  my  darling  !  tell  me  how  you  are  liui't  ?" 

She  looked  fit  liim,  and  said  with  some  difficulty  : 

"  My  ankle  pains  me  very  much,  and  I  believe  my  arm  is 
broken.     I  can't  move  it." 

"Ti.ank  God  yon  are  not  killed." 

He  kissed  her,  then  turned  away  and  despatched  a  servant  for 


102  MACARTA  ;    OR, 

a  physician.  He  summoned  Louisa,  and  inquired  fruitlessly  for 
his  mother  ;  no  one  knew  whither  she  had  gone  ;  it  would  not 
do  to  wait  for  her.  He  stood  by  the  sofa  and  prepared  the 
necessary  bandao*es,  while  his  sister  could  onlv  crv  over  and 
caress  the  sufferer.  When  the  physician  came  the  white  dimpled 
arm  was  bared,  and  he  discovered  that  tlie  bone  was  broken. 
The  setting  was  extremely  painful,  but  she  lay  with  closed  eyes 
and  firmly  compressed  lips,  uttering  no  sound,  giving  no  token  of 
the  torture,  save  in  the  wrinklins:  of  her  forehead.  Thev  bound 
the  arm  tightly,  and  then  the  doctor  said  the  ankle  was  badly 
strained  and  swollen,  but  there  was,  luckily,  no  fracture.  He 
gave  minute  directions  to  the  minister  and  withdrew,  praising 
the  patient's  remarkable  fortitude.  Louisa  would  talk,  and  her 
brother  sent  her  off  to  prepare  a  room  for  her  friend. 

"I  think  I  had  better  go  back  to  the  Institution,  Mr.  Young. 
It  will  be  a  long  time  before  I  can  walk  again,  and  I  wish  you 

would  have  me  carried  back.     Dr. will  be  uneasy,  and 

will  prefer  my  returning,  as  father  left  me  in  his  charge."  She 
tried  to  rij^e,  but  sank  back  on  the  pillow. 

"  Husii  !  husli  !  Y(ju  will  stay  where  you  are,  little  cripple. 
I  am  only  thankful  you  happened  to  be  here.'^ 

He  smoothed  the  folds  of  her  hair  from  her  temples,  and  for 
the  first  time  played  with  the  curls  he  had  so  often  before  been 
tempted  to  touch.  She  looked  so  slight,  so  childish,  with  her 
head  nestled  against  the  pillow,  that  he  forgot  she  was  almost 
sixteen,  forgot  everything  but  the  beauty  of  her  pale  face,  and 
bent  over  her  with  an  expression  of  the  teuderest  love.  She  was 
suffering  too  much  to  notice  his  countenance,  and  only  felt  that  he 
was  very  kind  and  gentle,  Mrs.  Young  came  in  very  soon,  and 
heard  with  the  deepest  solicitude  of  what  had  occurred.  Irene 
again  requested  to  be  taken  to  the  school,  fearing  that  she 
would  cause  too  much  trouble  during  her  long  confinement  to 
the  house.  But  Mrs.  Young  stopped  her  arguments  with  kisses, 
and  would  listen  to  no  such  arrangements  ;  she  would  trust  to 
no  one  but  herself  to  nurse  "  the  bruised  Southern  lily."  Hav- 
ing seen  that  all  was  in  readiness,  she  insisted  on  carrying  her 
guest  to  the  room  adjoining  Louisa's,  and  opening  into  her  own. 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  103 

^fr.  YcTunc:  had  g-one  to  Boston  the  day  before,  and,  turning  to 
her  son,  slie  said — 

"  Harvey,  as  your  father  is  away,  you  must  take  Irene  up 
stairs  ;  I  am  not  strong  enough.  Be  careful  that  you  do  not 
hurt  her." 

She  led  the  way,  and,  bending  down,  he  whispered — 

"  My  little  sister,  put  this  uninjured  arm  around  my  neck ; 
tliere — now  I  shall  carry  you  as  easily  as  if  you  were  in  a 
cradle." 

He  held  lier  firmly,  and  as  he  bore  her  up  the  steps  the  white 
face  lay  on  his  bosom,  and  the  golden  hair  floated  against  his 
cheek.  If  she  had  looked  at  him  then,  she  would  have  seen  more 
than  he  intended  that  any  one  should  know  ;  for,  young  and 
free  from  vanity  though  she  was,  it  was  impossible  to  mistake 
the  expression  of  the  eyes  riveted  upon  her.  She  never  knew 
how  his  great  heart  throbbed,  nor  suspected  that  he  turned  his 
lips  to  the  streaming  curls.  As  he  consigned  her  to  his  mother's 
care,  she  held  out  her  hand  and  thanked  him  for  his  great  kind- 
ness, little  dreaming  of  the  emotions  with  which  he  held  her 
fingers.  He  very  considerately  offered  to  go  at  once  to  the 
principal  of  the  school,  and  accjuaint  him  with  all  that  had  oc- 
curred ;  and,  ere  long,  when  an  anodyne  had  been  administered, 
she  fell  asleep,  and  found  temporary  relief.  Mrs.  Young  wrote 
immediately  to  Mr.  Huntingdon,  and  explained  the  circumstances 
which  had  made  his  daughter  her  guest  for  some  weeks  at  least, 
assuring  him  that  he  need  indulge  no  apprehension  whatever  on 
her  account,  as  she  would  nurse  her  as  tenderly  as  a  mother 
could.  Stupefied  by  the  opiate,  Irene  took  little  notice  of  what 
passed,  except  when  roused  by  the  pain  consequent  upon  dressing 
the  ankle.  Louisa  went  to  school  as  usual,  but  her  mother  rarely 
left  their  guest  ;  and  after  Mr.  Young's  return  he  treated  her 
with  all  the  affectionate  consideration  of  a  parent.*  Several  days 
after  the  occun-ence  of  the  accident  Irene  turned  toward  the 
minister,  who  stood  talking  to  his  mother. 

"  Your  constant  kindness  emboldens  me  to  ask  a  favor  of  you, 
which  I  think  you  will  scarcely  deny  me.  I  am  very  anxious  to 
see  the  friend  whom  I  so  unexpectedly  met  at  the  Academy  of 


104  MACAEIA  ;    OR, 

Design  ;  and  if  he  knew  the  circumstances  that  prevent  my 
leaving  the  house,  I  am  very  sui*e  she  would  come  to  me.  Here 
is  a  card  containing  her  address  ;  will  you  spare  me  the  time  to 
bring  her  here  to-day  ?     I  shall  be  very  much  obliged  to  you." 

"I  think  you  ought  to  keep  perfectly  quiet,  and  see  no  com- 
pany for  a  few  days.     Can't  you  wait  patiently  T' 

'*  It  will  do  me  no  harm  to  see  her.  I  feel  as  if  I  could  not 
wait." 

"  Very  well.  I  will  go  after  her  as  soon  as  I  have  fulfilled  a 
previous  engagement.     What  is  her  name  ?" 

"  Electra  Grey.     Did  you  notice  her  face  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  but  why  do  you  ask  ?" 

"  Because  I  think  she  resembles  your  mother." 

"  She  resembles  far  more  an  old  portrait  hanging  in  my  room. 
I  remarked  it  as  soon  as  I  saw  her." 

He  seemed  lost  in  thought,  and  immediately  after  left  the  room. 
An  hour  later,  Irene's  listening  ear  detected  the  opening  and 
closing  of  the  hall  door. 

"  There  is  Electra  on  the  steps  ;  I  hear  her  voice.  Will  you 
please  open  the  door  ?" 

Mrs.  Yx)ung  laid  down  her  work  and  rose  to  comply,  but  Har- 
vey ushered  the  stranger  in  and  then  retired. 

The  lady  of  the  house  looked  at  the  new  comer,  and  a  startled 
expression  came  instantly  into  her  countenance.  She  made  a 
step  forward  and  paused  irresolute. 

"  Mrs.  Young,  allow  me  to  introduce  my  friend.  Miss  Electra 
Grey."     Electra  bowed,  and  Mrs.  Young  exclaimed — 

"  Grey  !  Grey  !  Electra  Grey  ;  and  so  like  Robert  ?  Oh  ! 
it  must  be  so.     Child,  who  are  you  ?     Where  are  your  parents  ?" 

She  approached  and  put  her  hand  on  the  girl's  shoulders,  while 
a  hopeful  light  kindled  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  am  an  oi'phan,  madam,  from  the  South.  My  father  died 
^before  my  birth,  my  mother  immediately  after." 

"  Was  your  father's  name  Robert  ?     Where  was  he  from  ?" 

"  His  name  was  Enoch  R.  Grey.  I  don't  know  what  his  mid- 
dle name  was.  He  came  originally  from  Pennsylvania,  I  be- 
lieve." 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  105 

"  Oh  !  I  knew  that  1  could  not  be  mistaken  !     My  brother's 
child  !     Robert's  child  !" 

She  threw  her  arms  around  the  astonished  girl,  and  fetrained 
her  to  her  heart. 

"  There  must  be  some  mistake,  madam.     I  never  heard  that  I 
had  relatives  in  New  York." 

"  Oh  !  child  !  call  me  aunt  ;  I  am  your  father's  sister.     We 
called  him  by  his  middle  name,  Robert,  and  for  eighteen  years 
have  heard  nothing  of  him.     Sit  down  here,  and  let  me  tell  you 
the  circumstances.     Your  father  was  the  youngest  of  three  chil- 
dren, and  in  his  youth  gave  us  great  distress  by  his  wildness  ;  he 
ran  away  from  college  and  went  to  sea.     After  an  absence  of 
three  years  he  returned,  almost  a  wreck  of  his  former  self.     My 
mother  had  died  during  his  long  voyage  to  the  South  Sea  Is- 
lands, and  father,  who   believed   him  to  have  been  tlie  remote 
cause  of  her  death  (for  her  health  failed  soon  after  he  left),  up- 
braided him  most  harshly  and  unwisely.     His  reproaches  drove 
poor  Robert  to  desperation,  and  without  giving  us  any  clew,  he 
left  home  as  suddenly  as  before.     Whither  he  went  we  never 
knew.     Father  was  so  incensed  that  he  entirely  disinherited  him  ; 
but  at  his  death,  when  the  estate  was  divided,  my  brother  Wil- 
liam and  I  decided  that  we  would  take  only  what  we  considered 
our  proportion,  and  we  set  apart  one-third  for  Robert.     We  ad- 
vertised for  several  years,  and  could  hear  nothing  of  him  ;  and, 
at  the  end  of  the  fifth  year,  William  divided  that  remaining  third. 
We  knew  that  he  must  have   died,  and  I  have  passed  many  a 
sleepless  night  weeping  over  his  wretched  lot,  mourning  that  no 
kind  words  reached  him  from  us  ;  that  no  monumental  stone 
marked  his  unknown  grave.     Oh,  my  dear  child  !  I  am  so  glad 
to  find  you  out.     But  where  have  you  been  all  this  time  ?   Where 
did  Robert  die  ?" 

She  held  the  orphan's  hand,  and  made  no  attempt  to  conceal 
the  tears  that  rolled  over  her  cheeks.  Electra  gave  her  a  de- 
tailed account  of  her  life  from  the  time  when  she  was  taken  to 
her  uncle,  Mr.  Aubrey,  at  the  age  of  four  mouths,  till  the  death 
of  her  aunt  and  her  removal  to  New  York. 

"  And  Robert's  child  has  been  in  want,  while  we  knew  not  of 


106  MAC  ART  A  ;    OR 


her  existence  !  Oh,  Eleetra  !  you  shall  have  no  more  sorrow 
that  we  can  sliield  you  from.  I  loved  your  father  very  devoted- 
ly, and  I  shall  love  his  orphan  quite  as  dearly.  Come  to  me,  let 
me  be  your  mother.     Let  me  repair  tlie  wrong  of  by-goue  years." 

She  folded  her  arms  around  the  graceful  young  form  and  sob- 
bed aloud,  while  Irene  found  it  difficult  to  repress  her  own  tears 
of  sympathy  and  joy  that  her  friend  had  found  such  relatives. 
Of  the  three,  Eleetra  was  calmest.  Though  glad  to  meet  with 
her  father's  family,  she  knew  better  than  they  that  this  circum- 
stance could  make  little  alteration  in  her  life,  and  therefore,  when 
Mrs.  Young  had  left  the  room  to  acquaint  her  husband  and  son 
with  the  discovery  she  had  made,  Eleetra  sat  down  beside  her 
friend's  sofa  just  as  she  w^  ould  have  done  two  hours  before. 

"  I  am  so  glad  for  your  sake  that  you  are  to  come  and  live 
here.  Until  you  know  them  all  as  well  as  I  do,  you  can  not  pro- 
perly appreciate  your  good  fortune,"  said  Irene,  raishig  herself 
on  her  elbow. 

"  Yes,  I  am  very  glad  to  meet  my  aunt,"  returned  Eleetra, 
evasively,  and  then  she  added  earnestly  : 

"  But  I  rather  think  that  I  am  gladder  still  to  see  you  again. 
Oh,  Irene  !  it  seems  an  age  since  I  came  to  this  city.  We  have 
both  changed  a  good  deal  ;  you  look  graver  than  when  we  part- 
ed that  spring  morning  that  you  took  me  to  see  the  painter.  I 
owe  even  his  acquaintance  to  your  kindness." 

"  Tell  me  of  all  that  happened  after  I  left  home.  You  know 
that  I  have  heard  nothing." 

The  orphan  narrated  the  circumstances  connected  with  her 
aunt's  last  illness  and  death  ;  the  wretchedness  that  came  upon 
her  and  Russell  ;  the  necessity  of  their  separation. 

"  And  where  is  Russell  now  ?" 

"  At  home — that  is,  still  with  Mr.  Campbell,  who  has  proved 
a  kind  friend.  Russell  writes  once  a  week  :  he  seems  tolerably 
cheerful,  and  speaks  confidently  of  his  future  as  a  lawyer.  He 
studies  very  hard,  and  I  know  that  he  will  succeed." 

**  Your  cousin  is  very  ambitious.  I  wish  he  could  have  had  a 
good  education." 

"  It  will  be  all  the  same  in  the  end.     He  will  educate  himself 


ALTARS    OF    8ACRIFICK. 


107 


thoroiij^lily  ;  he  needs  nobody's  assistance,"  answered  Electra 
with  a  proud  smile. 

'^  Wiieii  you  write  to  him  again  don't  forget  to  tender  him  my 
remembrances  and  best  wishes." 

"  Tliaiik  you." 

A  slight  change  came  over  the  orphan's  countenance,  and  her 
companion  noted  without  understanding  it. 

"  Electra,  you  spoke  of  my  father  the  other  day  in  a  warth  it 
puzzled  me,  and  I  wish,  if  you  please,  you  would  tell  me  what 
you  meant." 

"I  don't  know  that  I  ought  to  talk  about  things  that  should 
have  been  buried  before  you  w^ere  born.  But  you  probably 
know  something  of  what  happened.  We  found  out  after  you 
left  why  you  were  so  suddenly  sent  off  to  boarding-school,  and 
you  can  have  no  idea  how  much  my  poor  aunt  was  distressed  at 
the  thought  of  having  caused  your  banishment.  Irene,  your  fa- 
ther hated  her,  and  of  course  you  know  it ;  but  do  you  know 
why  ?" 

"  Xo  ;  I  never  could  imagine  any  adequate  Cjause." 

"  Well,  I  can  tell  you.  Before  aunt  Amy's  marriage  your 
father  loved  her,  and  to  please  her  parents  she  accepted  him. 
She  was  miserable,  because  she  was  very  much  attached  to  my 
uncle,  and  asked  Mr.  Huntingdon  to  release  her  from  the  en- 
gagement. He  declined,  and  finding  that  her  parents  sided  with 
him  she  left  home  and  married  against  their  wishes.  They 
adopted  a  distant  relative,  and  never  gave  her  a  cent.  Your  fa- 
ther never  forgave  her.  He  had  great  influence  with  the  gover- 
nor, and  she  went  to  him  and  entreated  him  to  aid  her  in  pro- 
curing a  pardon  for  her  husband.  He  repulsed  her  cruelly,  and 
used  liis  influence  against  my  uncle.  She  afterw^ard  saw  a  letter 
which  he  wrote  to  the  governor,  urging  him  to  withhold  a  par- 
don. Oh,  Irene  I  if  you  could  have  seen  Russell  when  he  found 
out  all  this.  Now  you  have  the  key  to  his  hatred  ;  now  you 
understand  why  he  wrote  you  nothing  concerning  us.  Not  e\  eu 
aunt  Amy's  coflin  could  shut  in  his  hate." 

She  rose,  and  walking  to  the  window,  pressed  her  face  against 
the  panes  to  cool  her  burning  cheeks. 


108  MACARIA  ;   OR, 

Irene  had  put  her  hand  over  her  eyes,  and  a  fearful  panorama 
of  coming  years  rolled  before  her  in  that  brief  moment.  She 
saw  with  miserable  distinctness  the  parallelism  between  Mrs.  -Au- 
brey's father  and  her  own,  and,  sick  at  heart,  she  moaned,  con- 
templating her  lot.  A  feeling  of  remorseful  compassion  touched 
the  orphan  as  she  heard  the  smothered  sound,  and,  resuming  her 
seat,  she  said  gently  : 

"  Do  not  be  distressed,  Irene  ;  '  let  the  dead  past  bury  its 
dead  ;'  it  is  all  over  now,  and  no  more  harm  can  come  of  it.  I 
shall  be  sorry  that  I  told  you  if  you  let  it  trouble  you." 

Irene  knew  too  well  that  it  was  not  over  ;  that  it  was  but  the 
beginning  of  harm  to  her  ;  but  she  repressed  her  emotion,  and 
changed  the  subject  by  inquiring  how  Electra  progressed  with 
her  painting. 

"Even  better  than  I  hoped.  Mr.  Clifton  is  an  admirable 
master,  and  does  all  that  he  can  to  aid  me.  I  shall  succeed, 
Irene  ;  I  know,  I  feel  that  I  shall,  and  it  is  a  great  joy  to  me." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it  ;  but  now  you  will  have  no  need  to 
labor,  as  you  once  expected  to  do.  You  are  looking  much  bet- 
ter than  I  ever  saw  you,  and  have  grown  taller.  You  are  nearly 
sixteen,  I  believe  ?" 

"  Yes,  sixteen.  I  am  three  months  your  senior.  Irene,  I 
must  go  home  now,  for  they  will  wonder  what  has  become  of 
me.     I  will  see  vou  a2:ain  soon." 

She  was  detained  by  her  aunt,  and  presented  to  the  remainder 
of  the  family,  and  it  was  arranged  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Young 
should  visit  her  the  ensuing  day.  While  they  talked  over  the 
tea-table  of  the  newly-found,  Harvey  went  slowly  up  stairs  and 
knocked  at  Irene's  door.  Louisa  was  chattering  delightedly 
about  her  cousin,  and,  sending  her  down  to  her  tea,  he  took 
her  seat  beside  the  sofa.  Irene  lay  with  her  fingers  over  her 
eyes,  and  he  said  gently — 

"  You  see  that  I  am  wiser  than  you,  Irene.  I  knew  that  it 
would  do  you  no  good  to  have  company.  Next  time  be  ad- 
vised." 

"  It  was  not  Electra  that  harmed  me." 

"  Then  you  admit  that  you  have  been  harmed  ?" 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  1m9 

"No  ;  I  am  low-spirited  to-nii^ht  ;  I  believe  that  is  all." 
"  You  have  not  studied  dialectics  yet.     People  are  uot  low- 
spirited  without  a  cause  ;  tell  me  what  troubles  you." 
She  tui'ued  her  face  to  the  wall,  aud  answered — 
"  Oh  !  there  is  nothinp;  which  I  can  tell  you,  sir." 
"  Irene,  why  do  you  distrust  me  ?" 

"  I  do  not  ;  indeed  I  do  not.     You  must  not  believe  that  for 
one  moment." 

"  You  are  distressed,  and  yet  will  not  confide  in  me." 
**  It  is  something  which  I  ought  not  to  .tell  eveu  my  friend,  my 
brother." 

"  You  are  sure  tliat  it  is  something  I  could  not  remedy  ?" 
"  Yes,  sir  ;  perfectly  sure." 
**  Then  try  to  forget  it,  and  let  me  read  to  you." 
He  opened  the  "  Rambler,"  of  which  she  was  particularly 
fond,  and  beo-an  to  read.  For  a  while  she  listened,  and  in  her 
interest  forgot  her  forebodings,  but  after  a  time  her  long  silky 
lashes  swept  her  cheeks,  and  she  slept.  The  minister  laid  down 
tlie  volume  and  watched  the  pure  girlish  face  ;  noted  all  its 
witching  loveliness,  and  thought  of  the  homage  which  it  would 
win  her  in  coming  years.  A  few  more  fleeting  months,  and  she 
would  reign  the  undisputed  queen  of  society.  Wealth,  intellect, 
manly  beauty,  all  would  bow  before  her  ;  and  she  was  a  woman  ; 
would  doubtless  love  and  marry,  like  the  majority  of  women.  He 
set  this  fact  before  him  and  looked  it  in  the  face,  but  it  would 
not  answer  ;  he  could  not  realize  that  she  would  ever  be  other 
than  the  trusting,  noble-hearted,  beautiful  child  which  she  was 
to  him.  He  knew  as  he  sat  watching  her  slumber  that  he  loved 
her  above  everything  on  earth  ;  that  she  wielded  a  power  none 
had  ever  possessed  before — that  his  heart  was  indissolubly  linked 
with  hers.  He  had  wrestled  with  this  infatuation,  had  stationed 
himself  on  the  platform  of  common  sense,  and  railed  at  and  ridi- 
culed this  piece  of  folly.  His  clear,  cool  reason  gave  solemn  ver- 
dict against  the  fiercely-throbbing  heart,  but  not  one  pulsation 
had  been  restrained.  At  his  age,  with  his  profession  and  long- 
laid  plans,  this  was  arrant  madness,  and  he  admitted  it  ;  but  the 
long  down-trodden  feelings  of  his  heart,  having  gained  momen- 


110  MAC  ART  A  :    OR 


tary  freedom,  exultingly  ran  riot  and  refused  to  be  reined  in. 
He  might  just  as  well  have  laid  his  palm  on  the  whitened  crest 
of  surging  billows  in  stormy,  tropical  seas,  and  bid  them  sink 
softly  down  to  their  coral  pavements.  Human  passions,  hatred, 
ambition,  revenge,  love,  are  despots  ;  and  the  minister,  who  for 
tliirty  years  had  struggled  for  mastery  over  these,  now  found 
liimself  a  slave.  He  had  studied  Irene's  couutenance  too  well 
not  to  know  that  a  shadow  rested  on  it  now  ;  and  it  grieved  and 
p'-.'r})iexed  him  that  she  should  conceal  this  trouble  from  him.  As 
he  sat  looking  down  at  her,  a  mighty  barrier  rose  between  them. 
His  future  had  long  been  determined — duty  called  him  to  the 
rutle  huts  of  the  far  West  ;  thither  pointed  the  finger  of  destiny, 
and  thither,  at  all  hazards,  he  would  go.  He  thought'that  he 
bad  habituated  himself  to  sacrifices,  but  the  spirit  of  self-abne- 
gation was  scarcely  equal  to  this  trial.  Reason  taught  him  that 
the  tenderly-nurtured  child  of  southern  climes  would  never  suit 
him  for  a  companion  in  the  pioneer  life  which  he  had  marked 
out.  Of  course,  he  must  leave  her  ;  hundreds  of  miles  would  in- 
tervene ;  his  memory  would  fade  from  her  mind,  and  for  him  it 
only  remained  to  bury  her  image  in  the  prairies  of  his  new  home. 
He  folded  his  arms  tightly  over  his  chest,  and  resolved  to  go 
promptly. 

The  gas-lio-ht  flashed  on  Irene's  hair  as  it  hnnir  over  the  side 

CO  ~ 

of  the  sofa  :  he  stooped,  and  pressed  his  lips  to  the  floathig 
curls,  and  went  down  to  the  library,  smiling  griuily  at  his  own 
folly.  Without  delay  he  wrote  two  letters,  and  was  dating  a  third, 
wlien  his  mother  came  in.  Placing  a  chair  for  her,  he  laid  down 
bis  pen. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  mother  ;  I  want  to  have  a  talk  with 
you." 

"  About  what,  Harvey  ?" — an  anxious  look  settled  on  her 
face. 

"  About  my  leaving  you,  and  going  West.  I  have  decided  to 
start  next  week." 

"  Oh,  my  son  !  how  can  you  bring  such  grief  upon  me  ? 
Surely  there  is  work  enough  for  you  to  do  here,  without  your 
tearing  yom'self  from  us." 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  Ill 

"  Yes,  mother,  work  enono-li^  but  hands  enough  also,  witliout 
mine.  Tl.ese  are  the  sunny  slopes  of  the  A^ineyard,  and  laborers 
crowd  to  till  tiieni  ;  but  there  are  cold,  shadowy,  barren  nooks 
and  corners,  that  equally  demand  cultivation.  There  the  lines 
have  fallen  to  me,  and  there  I  go  to  my  work.  Nny,  moth'T  ! 
don't  weep,  don't  heighten,  by  your  entreaties  and  remonstran- 
ces, the  barriers  to  my  departure.  It  is  peculiarly  the  province 
of  such  as  I  to  set  forth  for  this  field  of  operations  ;  men  who 
liave  wives  and  children  have  no  right  to  subject  them  to  the 
privations  and  hardships  of  pioneer  life.  But  I  am  alone — shall 
always  be  so — and  this  call  I  feel  to  be  imperative.  You  know 
that  I  have  dedicated  myself  to  the  ministry,  and  whatever  I 
firmly  believe  to  be  my  duty  to  the  holy  cause  I  have  espoused, 
that  I  must  do,  even  though  it  separate  me  from  my  mother. 
It  is  a  severe  ordeal  to  me— you  will  probably  never  know  how 
severe  ;  but  we  who  profess  to  yield  up  all  things  for  Christ  must 
not  shrink  from  sacrifice.  I  shall  come  back  now  and  then,  and 
letters  are  a  blessed  medium  of  communication  and  consolation. 
I  have  delayed   my  departure  too  long  already." 

"  Oh,  Harvey  !  have  you  fully  determined  on  this  step  ?" 
''  Yes,  my  dear  mother,  fully  determined  to  go." 
"  It  is  very  hard  for  me  to  give  up  my  only  son.  I  can't  say 
that  I  will  reconcile  myself  to  this  separation  ;  but  you  are  old 
enough  to  decide  your  own  future  ;  and  I  suppose  I  ought  not 
to  urge  you.  For  months  I  have  opposed  your  resolution,  now 
I  will  «ot  longer  remonstrate.  Oh,  Harvey  I  it  makes  my  heart 
ache  to  part  with  you.  If  you  were  married,  I  should  be  better 
satisfied  ;  but  to  think  of  you  in  your  loneliness  I"  She  laid  her 
head  on  his  shoulder,  and  wept. 

The  minister  compressed  his  lips  firmly  an  instant,  then 
replied — 

"  I  always  told  you  that  I  should  never  marry.  I  shall  be 
too  constantly  occupied  to  sit  down  and  feel  lonely.  Now, 
mother,  I  must  finish  my  letters,  if  you  please,  for  they  should  go 
by  the  earliest  mail." 


112  MACAJKIA  ;    OR, 


CHAPTER  IX. 

The  artist  stood  at  the  window  watcliinor  for  his  pupil's 
return;  it  was  the  late  afternoon  hour,  which  they  were  wont 
to  spend  in  reading,  and  her  absence  annoyed  him.  As  he 
rested  carelessly  against  the  window,  his  graceful  form  was  dis- 
played to  great  advantage,  and  the  long  brown  haii  ilrooped 
about  a  classical  face  of  almost  feminine  beauty.  The"deil*iacy 
of  his  features  was  enhanced  by  the  extreme  pallor  of  his  com 
plexion,  and  it  was  apparent  that  close  application  to  his  pro- 
fession had  made  sad  inroads  on  a  constitution  never  very 
robust  A  certain  listlessness  of  manner,  a  sort  of  lazy-grace 
seemed  characteristic  ;  but  when  his  pupil  came  in  and  laid 
aside  her  bonnet,  the  expression  of  ennui  vanished,  and  he  threw 
himself  on  a  sofa  looking  infinitely  relieved.  She  drew  near, 
and  without  hesitation  acquainted  him  with  the  discov^.ry  of 
her  relatives  in  New  York.  He  listened  in  painful  surpri^, 
and,  ere  she  had  concluded,  sprang  up.  "  I  understand  !  they 
will  want  to  take  you ;  will  urge  you  to  share  their  home  of 
wealth.  But,  Electra,  you  won't  leave  me  ;  surely  you  won't 
leave  me  ?" 

He  put  his  hands  on  her  shoulders,  and  she  knew  from  his 
quick,  irregular  breathing,  that  the  thought  of  separation  greatly 
distressed  him. 

'*  My  aunt  has  not  explicitly  invited  me  to  reside  with  her, 
though  I  inferred  from  her  manner  that  she  confidently  expected 
me  to  do  so.     Irene  also  spoke  of  it  as  a  settled  matter." 

"  You  will  not  allow  me  to  persuade  you  ?  Oh,  child  !  tell 
me  at  once  you  will  never  leave  me." 

"  Mr.  Clifton,  we  must  part  some  day;  I  cannot  always  live 
here,  you  know.  Before  very  long  I  must  go  out  and  earn  my 
bread!" 

"  Never  !  while  I  live.  "When  I  offered  you  a  home,  I  ex- 
pected it  to  be  a  permanent  one.  I  intended  to  adopt  you. 
Here,  if  you  choose,  you  may  work  and  earn  a  reputation ;  but 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICK.  113 

away  from  me,  among  strangers,  never.     Electra,  you  forget ; 
vou  gave  yourself  to  me  once.'' 

She  sliudilered,  and  tried  to  release  herself,  but  the  hands 
were  relentless  in  their  grasp. 

"  Electra,  you  belong  to  me,  my  child.  Whom  have  I  to 
love  but  you,  my  dear  pupil  ?     What  should  I  do  without  you  ?" 

'*  I  have  no  intention  of  living  with  my  aunt;  I  desire  to  be 
under  obligations  to  no  one  but  yourself.  But  I  am  very  proud, 
and  even  temporary  dependence  on  you  galls  me.  You  are,  I 
believe,  the  best  friend  I  have  on  earth,  and  until  I  can  sup{>oi  t 
myself  I  will  remain  under  your  care  ;  longer  than  that  it  would 
be  impossible.  I  am  bound  to  you,  my  generous,  kind  master, 
as  to  DO  one  else." 

"  This  does  not  satisfy  me  ;  the  thought  that  you  will  leave 
me  at  even  a  distant  day,  will  haunt  me  continually — marring 
all  my  joy.  It  can  not  be,  Electra  !  You  gave  yourself  to  me 
once,  and  I  claim  you." 

She  looked  into  his  eyes,  and,  with  a  woman's  quick  percep- 
tion, read  all  the  truth. 

In  an  instant  her  countenance  changed  painfully;  she  stoop- 
ed, touched  his  hand  with  her  lips,  and  exc'laimed  : 

"  Thank  you,  a  thousand  times,  my  friend,  my  father  !  for 
your  interest  in,  and  your  unvarying,  unparalleled  kindness  to 
me.  All  the  gratitude  and  affection  which  a  child  could  give 
to  a  parent  I  shall  always  cherish  toward  you.  Since  it  annoys 
you,  we  will  say  no  more  about  the  future  :  let  the  years  take 
care  of  themselves  as  they  come." 

"  Will  you  promise  me  positively  that  you  will  not  go  to 
your  aunt  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  I  have  never  seriously  entertained  the  thought." 

She  escaped  from  his  hands,  and,  lighting  the  gas,  applied 
herself  to  her  books  for  the  next  hour. 

If  Irene  found  the  restraint  of  boarding-school  irksome,  the 
separation  from  Russell  was  well  nigh  intolerable  to  Electra. 
At  first  she  had  seemed  pluiiged  in  lethargy;  but  after  a  time 
this  mood  gave  place  to  restless,  unceasing  activity.  Like  one 
trying  to  flee  from  something  painful,  she  rushed  daily  to  her 


114  MACAKIA  ;    OR, 

work,  and  regretted  when  the  honrs  of  darkness  consigned  her 
to  reflection.  Mrs.  Clifton  was  quite  aged,  and  though  uni- 
formly gentle  and  affectionate  toward  the  orphan,  there  was 
1)0  common  oround  of  congeniality  on  which  they  could  meet. 
To  a  proud,  exacting  nature  like  Electra's,  Mr,  Clifton's  constant 
manifestations  of  love  and  sympathy  were  very  soothing.  Writh- 
ing under  the  consciousness  of  her  cousin's  indifference,  she  turn- 
ed eagerly  to  receive  the  tokens  of  affection  showered  upon  her. 
She  knew  that  his  happiness  centered  in  her,  and  vainly  fancied 
that  she  could  feed  her  hungry  heart  with  his  adoration.  But 
by  degrees  she  realized  that  these  husks  wouki  not  satisfy  her ; 
and  a  singular  sensation  of  mingled  gratitude  and  impatience 
arose  whenever  he  caressed  her.  In  his  house  her  fine  intellect 
found  ample  range ;  an  extensive  library  wooed  her  when  not 
engaged  with  her  pencil,  and  with  eager  curiosity  she  plunged  in- 
to various  departments  of  study.  As  mioht  easily  have  been  pre- 
dicted, from  the  idealistic  tendency  of  her  entire  mental  confor- 
mation, she  early  selected  the  imaginative  realm  as  peculiarly  her 
own.  Over  moth-eaten  volumes  of  mythologic  lore  she  pored  con- 
tinually ;  effete  theogonies  and  cosmogonies  siezed  upon  her 
fancy,  and  peopled  all  space  with  the  gods  and  heroes  of  most 
ancient  days.  She  lived  amonof  weird  nhantasmacroric  creations 
of  Sagus  and  Puranas,  and  roamed  from  Asgard  to  Kinkadulle, 
having  little  sympathy  or  care  for  the  realities  that  sur- 
ruund-ed  her.  Mr.  Clifton's  associates  were  principally  artists, 
and  the  conversations  to  which  she  listened  tended  to  increase 
her  enthusiasm  lor  the  profession  she  had  chosen.  She  had  no 
female  companion,  except  Mrs.  Clifton,  and  little  leisure  to  dis- 
cuss the  topics  which  ordinarily  engage  girls  of  her  age  The 
warm  gushings  of  her  heart  were  driven  back  to  their  springs, 
and  locked  from  human  gaze  ;  yet  she  sometimes  felt  her  isola- 
tion almost  intolerable.  To  escape  from  herself,  she  was  goaded 
into  feveri.-h  activity,  and,  toiling  to-day,  shut  her  eyes  to  the 
to-morrow. 

Siie  comited  the  days  betweeii  Russell's  letters ;  when  they 
arrived,  snatched  them  with  trembling  fingers,  and  hastened  to 
her  own  room  to  devour  them.     Once  read  and  folded  away, 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  115 

this  thoug-lit  fell  with  leaden  weiij^ht  upon  her  heart  :  "There  is 
so  little  ill  this  letter,  and  now  I  must  wait  another  long  week 
for  the  next."  He  never  surmised  half  her  wretchedness,  for  she 
proudly  concealed  her  discontent,  and  wrote  as  if  happy  and  hope- 
ful. The  shell  of  her  reserve  was  beautifully  polished  and  paint- 
ed, and  it  never  occurred  to  him  that  it  enclosed  dark  cells,  wliere 
only  wailings  echoed.  In  figure,  she  was  decidedly  peiit^  but 
fiiultlessly  symmetrical  and  graceful  ;  and  the  piquant  beauty 
of  her  face  won  her  the  admiration  of  those  who  frequented  the 
studio. 

Among  the  artists  especially,  she  was  a  well  established  pet, 
privileged  to  inspect  their  work  whenever  she  felt  disposed,  and 
always  warmly  welcomed.     They  encom'aged  her  in  her  work, 
stimulated  her  by  no  means  dormant  ambition,  and  predicted  a 
brilliant  and  successful  career.     Mrs.  Clifton  w^as  a  rigid  Roman 
Catholic,  her  son  a  free-thinker,  in  the   broadest   significance  ©f 
the  term,  if  one  might  judge  from  the  selections  that  adorned  his 
library  shelves.     But  deep  in  his  soul  was  the  germination  of  a 
mystical  creed,  which  gradually  unfolded  itself  to  Electra.     The 
simple  yet  sublime  faith  of  her  aunt  rapidly  faded  from  the  girl's 
heart  ;  she  turned  from  its  severe  simplicity  to  the  gorgeous  ac- 
cessories of  other  systems.     The  pomp  of  ceremonial,  the  bewil- 
dering adjuncts  of  another  creed,  wooed  her  overweening,  ex- 
cited fancy.     Of  doctrine  she  knew  little,  and  cared  less  ;  the 
bare  walls  and  quiet  service  of  the  old  church  at  home  had  for 
her  no  attraction  :  she  revelled  in  dim  cathedral  light,  among 
mellow,  ancient  pictures,  where  pale  wreaths  of  incense  curled, 
and  solemn  organ  tones  whispered  through  marble  aisles.     She 
would  sit  with  folded  arras,  watching  the  forms  of  devotees  glide 
in  and  out,  and  prostrate  themselves   before  the  images  on  the 
gilt  altar  ;  and  fancy  wafted  her,  at  such  times,  to  the  dead  ages 
of  imperial  Greece,  when  devout  hearts  bore  offerings  to  Delphi, 
Dclos,  Dpdona,  and  Eleusis.     An  arch-idolatress  she  would  have 
been  in  the  ancient  days  of  her  Mycenaean  namesake — a  priestess 
of  Demeter  or  Artemis.     At  all  hazards  this  dainty  fancy  must 
be  pampered,  and  she  gleaned  aliment  from  every  source  that 
Could  possibly  yield  it,  fostering  a  despotic  tendency  which  soon 


116  MACAEIA  ;   OR, 

towered  above  every  other  element  of  her  being.  The  first 
glimpse  of  her  teacher's  Swedenborgian  faith  was  sufficient  to 
rivet  her  attention.  She  watched  the  expansion  of  his  theories, 
and  essayed  to  follow  the  profound  trains  of  argumentation,  based 
on  physical  analogies  and  correspondences,  which  led  him  so  irre- 
sistibly to  his  conclusions.  But  dialectics  formed  no  portion  of 
her  intellectual  heritage,  and  her  imagination,  seizing,  by  a  kind 
of  secret  affinity,  the  spirituaHstic  elements  of  the  system,  turned 
with  loathing  from  the  granite-like,  scientific  fundamentals.  Irene 
would  have  gone  down  among  the  mortar  and  bricks,  measuring 
the  foundations,  but  Electra  gazed  upon  the  exquisite  acanthus 
wreathings  of  the  ornate  capitals,  the  glowing  frescoes  of  the 
mighty  nave,  and  here  was  contest  to  rest.  Mr.  Clifton  never 
attempted  to  restrain  her  movements  or  oppose  her  inclinations  ; 
like  a  bee  she  roved  ceaselessly  from  book  to  book,  seeking 
honey,  and,  without  the  safeguard  of  its  unerring  instinct,  she 
frequently  gathered  poison  from  lovely  chalices.  Ah,  Amy 
Aubrey  !  it  was  an  evil  day  for  your  orphan  charge,  when  Atro- 
pos  cut  the  tangled  thread  of 'your  life,  and  you  left  her  to  fol- 
low the  dictates  of  her  stormy  temperament.  Yet  otherwise, 
nature  could  never  have  fully  woven  the  pattern  ;  it  would  have 
been  but  a  blurred,  imperfect  design.  It  was  late  at  night  when 
Electra  retired  to  her  room,  and  sat  down  to  collect  her  thoughts 
after  the  unexpected  occurrences  of  the  day. 

More  than  one  discovery  had  been  made  since  the  sunrise, 
which  she  awoke  so  early  to  study.  She  had  found  relatives,  and 
an  opportunity  of  living  luxuriously  ;  but,  in  the  midst  of  this 
beautiful  bouquet  of  surprises,  a  serpent's  head  peered  out  at  her. 
Once  before,  she  thought  she  had  caught  sight  of  its  writhing 
folds,  but  it  vanished  too  instantaneously  to  furnish  disquiet. 
Now  its  glittering  eyes  held  her  spell-bound  ;  like  the  Pentagram 
in  Faust,  it  kept  her  in  "durance  vile."  She  would  fain  have 
shut  her  e\'es,  had  it  been  possible.  Mr.  Clifton  loved  her  ;  not 
as  a  teacher  his  pupil,  not  as  guardian  loves  ward,  not  as  parent 
loves  child.  Perhaps  he  had  not  intended  that  she  should  know 
it  so  soon,  but  his  eyes  had  betrayed  the  secret.  She  saw  per- 
fectly how  matters  stood.     This,  then,  had  prompted  him,  from 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  117 

the  first,  to  rciuler  her  assistance  ;  he  had  resolved  to  make  her 
liis  wife  ;  nothiiiii:  less  would  content  him.  She  twisted  her 
white  fingers  in  her  hair,  and  gazed  vacantly  down  on  the  car- 
pet, and  gradually  the  rich  crimson  blood  sank  out  of  her  face. 
She  held  liis  life  in  the  hollow  of  her  hand,  and  this  she  well 
knew  ;  death  hung  over  him  like  the  sword  of  Damocles  ;  she  had 
been  told  that  any  violent  agitation  or  grief  would  bring  on  the 
hemorrhage  which  he  so  much  dreaded,  and  although  he  seemed 
stronger  and  better  than  usual,  the  insidious  nature  of  his  dis- 
ease gave  her  little  hope  that  he  would  ever  be  robust.  To  feign 
ignorance  of  his  real  feelings  for  her,  would  prove  but  a  tempo- 
rary stratagem  ;  the  time  must  inevitably  come,  before  long, 
when  he  would  put  aside  this  veil  and  set  the  truth  before  her. 
How  should  she  meet  it — how  should  she  evade  him  ?  Accept 
the  home  which  Mrs.  Young  would  offer  her,  and  leave  him  to 
suffer  briefly,  to  sink  swiftly  into  the  tomb  ?  No  ;  her  father's 
family  had  cast  him  most  unjustly  off,  withholding  his  patrimony  ; 
and  now  she  scorned  to  receive  one  cent  of  the  money  which  his 
father  was  unwillhig  that  he  should  enjoy.  Beside,  who  loved 
her  as  well  as  Henry  Clifton  ?  She  owed  more  to  him  than  to 
any  living  being  ;  it  w^ould  be  the  part  of  an  ingrate  to  leave 
him  ;  it  was  cowardly  to  shrink  from  repaying  the  debt.  But 
the  thought  of  being  his  wife  froze  her  blood,  and  heavy  drops 
gathered  on  her  brow  as  she  endeavored  to  reflect  upon  this  pos- 
sibility. 

A  feeling  of  unconquerable  repulsion  sprang  up  in  her  heart, 
nerving,  steeling  her  against  his  affection.  With  a  strange  in- 
stantaneous reaction,  she  thought  with  loathing  of  his  words  of 
endearment.  How  could  she  endure  them  in  future,  yet  how  re- 
ject without  wounding  him  ?  One,  and  only  one,  path  of  escape 
presented  itself — a  path  of  measureless  joy.  She  lifted  her 
hands,  and  murmured  : 

"  Russell  !  Russell  !  save  me  from  this." 

When  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Young  visited  the  studio  the  following 
day,  and  urged  the  orphan's  removal  to  their  house,  she  gently 
but  resolutely  declined  their  generous  offer,  expressing  an  affec- 
tionate gratitude  toward  her  teacher,  and  a  determination   not 


118  MACAEIA  ;    OR, 

to  leave  him,  at  least  for  the  present.  Mrs.  Young  was  mucli 
distressed,  and  adduced  every  argument  of  which  she  was  mis- 
tress, but  her  niece  remained  firm  ;  and  finding  their  entreaties 
fruitless,  Mr.  Young  said  that  he  would  immediately  take  the 
necessary  steps  to  secure  Robert  Grey's  portion  of  the  estate  to 
his  daughter.  Electra  sat  with  her  hand  nestled  in  her  aunt's, 
but  when  this  matter  was  alluded  to  she  rose,  and  said  proudly  : 

"  No,  sir  ;  let  the  estate  remain  just  as  it  is.  I  will  never  ac- 
cept one  cent.  My  grandfather  on  his  deatli-bed  excluded  my 
father  from  any  portion  of  it,  and  since  he  willed  it  so,  even  so 
it  shall  be.  I  have  no  legal  claim  to  a  dollar,  and  I  will  never 
receive  one  from  your  generosity.  It  was  the  will  of  the  dead 
that  you  and  my  uncle,  William,  should  inherit  the  whole,  and 
as  far  as  I  am  concerned,  have  it  you  shall.  I  am  poor,  I  know  ; 
so  were  my  parents  ;  poverty  they  bequeathed  as  my  birthright, 
and  even  as  they  lived  without  aid  from  my  grandfather,  so  will 
I.  It  is  very  noble  and  generous  in  you,  after  the  expiration  of 
nearly  twenty  years,  to  be  willing  to  divide  with  the  orphan  of 
the  outcast  ;  but  I  will  not,  can  not,  allow  you  to  do  so.  I 
fully  appreciate  and  most  cordially  thank  you  both  for  your 
goodness  ;  but  I  atn  young  and  strong,  and  I  expect  to  earn  my 
living.  Mr.  Clifton  and  his  mother  want  me  to  remain  in  his 
house  until  I  finish  my  studies,  and  I  gratefully  accept  his  kind 
offer.  Xay,  aunt  !  don't  let  it  trouble  you  so  ;  I  shall  visit  you 
very  frequently  " 

'*  She  has  all  of  Robert's  fierce  obstinacy.  I  see  it  in  her 
eyes,  hear  it  ringing  in  the  tones  of  her  voice.  Take  care,  child  I 
it  Kilned  youi*  father,"  said  Mrs.  Young,  sorrowfully. 

''  You  should  remember,  Electra,  that  an  orphan  girl  needs 
a  protector  ;  such  I  would  fain  prove  myself." 

As  Mr.  Young  spoke,  he  took  one  of  her  hands  and  drew  her 
to  him.  She  turned  quickly  and  laid  the  other  on  the  artist's 
arm. 

"I  have  one  here,  sir  ;  a  protector  as  true  and  kind  as  my 
own  father  could  be." 

She  understood  the  flash  of  his  eyes  and  his  proud  smile  as  he 
assured  her  relatives  that  he  would  guard  her  from  harm  and 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  119 

want  so  loiifj;  as  he  lived,  or  as  slie  remained  under  his  care.  She 
knew  he  regarded  this  as  a  tacit  sealing  of  tlie  old  compact,  and 
she  had  no  inclination  to  undeceive  hini.at  this  juncture. 

Urging  her  to  visit  them  as  often  as  possible,  and  extending 
the  invitation  to  Mr.  Clifton,  the  Youngs  withdrew,  evidently 
much  disappointed  ;  and,  as  the  door  closed  behind  them,  Eiec- 
tra  felt  that  the  circle  of  doom  was  narrowing  around  her.  Mr. 
Clifton  approached  her,  but  averting  her  head  she  lifted  the 
damask  curtain  that  divided  the  parlor  from  the  studio  and  effect- 
ed her  retreat,  dreading  to  meet  his  glance — putting  off  the  evil 
day  as  long  as  possible — trying  to  trample  the  serpent  that 
trailed  after  her  from  that  hour. 


CHAPTER   X. 

"  You  are  better,  to-day,  mother  tells  me." 

*'  Yes,  thank  you,  my  foot  is  much  better.  You  have  not 
been  up  to  see  me  for  twb  days." 

Irene  sat  in  an  easy  chair  by  the  open  window,  and  the  min- 
ister took  a  seat  near  her. 

"  I  have  not  forgotten  you  in  the  interim,  however."  As  he 
spoke  he  laid  a  bouquet  of  choice  flowers  in  her  lap.  She  bent 
over  them  with  eager  delight,  and  held  out  one  hand,  saying  : 

"Oh,  thank  you  ;  how  very  kind  you  are.  These  remind  me 
of  the  green-house  at  home  ;  they  are  the  most  beautiful  I  have 
seen  in  New  York." 

"  Irene,  the  man  or  woman  who  is  impervious  to  the  subtle,  spirit- 
ualizing influence  of  flowers,  may  feel  assured  that  there  is  some- 
thing lamentably  amiss  in  either  his  or  her  organization  or  habits 
of  life.  They  weave  rosy  links  of  associations  more  binding  than 
steel,  and  sometimes  of  incalculable  value.  Amid  the  awful  soli- 
tude of  Alpine  glaciers,  I  recollect  the  thrill  of  pleasure  which 
the  blue  gentians  caused  me,  as  I  noted  the  fragile  petals  shud- 
dering upon  the  very  verge  of  fields  of  eternal  snow  ;  and  among 


120  MACAEIA  ;    OR, 

the  cherished  memories  of  the  far  East  are  its  acacias  and  riiodo- 
dendrons  ;  the  scariet  poppies  waving  hke  a  '  mantle  of  blood' 
over  Syrian  valleys,  and  the  oleanders  fringing  the  grey,  gloomy 
crags  and  breathing  their  exquisite  fragrance  over  the  silent  deso- 
lation of  that  grand  city  of  rock — immemorial  Petra.  I  have 
remarked  your  fondness  for  flowers  ;  cultivate  it  always  ;  they 
are  evangels  of  pr.rity  and  faith,  if  we  but  unlock  our  hearts  to 
their  ministry.  Callous  and  sordid  indeed  must  be  that  soul  who 
fails  in  grateful  appreciation  of  gifts  designed  especially  to  pro- 
mote the  happiness  and  adorn  the  dwellings  of  our  race  ;  for  in 
attestation  of  this  truth,  stand  the  huge,  hoary  tomes  of  geology, 
proving  that  the  pre-Adamic  ages  were  comparatively  barren  of 
the  gorgeous  flowers  which  tapestried  the  earth  so  munificently 
just  ere  man  made  his  appearances  on  the  stage.  A  reverent 
student  of  the  rocks,  who  spent  his  life  in  listening  to  the  solemn, 
oracular  whispers  of  their  grand  granite  lips,  that  moved,  Mem- 
non-like,  as  he  flashed  the  light  of  Revelation  upon  them,  tells  us  : 
*  The  poet  accepted  the  bee  as  a  sign  of  high  significance  :  the 
geologist,  also,  accepts  her  as  a  sign.  Her  entombed  remains  tes- 
tify to  the  gradual  fitting  up  of  our  earth  as  a  place  of  habitation 
for  a  creature  destined  to  seek  delight  for  the  mind  and  eye  as 
certainly  as  for  the  grosser  senses,  and  in  especial  mark  the  intro- 
duction of  stately  forest  trees,  and  the  arrival  of  the  delicious  flow- 
ers.' A  profound  thinker  and  eloquent  writer,  who  is  now  doing  a 
noble  work  for  his  generation  by  pointing  it  to  unstained  sources 
of  happiness,  has  said  of  flowers  :  '  They  are  chalices  of  Divine 
workmanship — of  purple,  and  scarlet,  and  liquid  gold — from 
which  man  is  to  drink  the  pure  joy  of  beauty.'  There  is,  you 
know,  a  graduated  scale  of  missionary  work  for  all  created 
things  ;  man  labors  for  God  and  his  race  through  deep,  often 
tortuous  channels,  and  nature,  all  animate  and  inanimate  nature, 
ministers  in  feebler  yet  still  heaven-appointed  processes.  The 
trouble  is,  that,  in  the  rush  and  din  and  whirl  of  life,  we  will  not 
pause  to  note  these  sermons  ;  and  from  year  to  year  the  whis- 
pered precepts  of  faith,  hope,  and  charity  fall  on  deaf  ears.  Na- 
ture is  so  prodigal  of  refining,  elevating  influences,  and  man  is  so 
inaccessible  in  his  isolating,  mflated  egotism." 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  121 

He  paiisod,  and  busied  himself  in  cutting  the  leaves  of  a  new 
book,  while  Irene  looked  into  his  calm,  noble  face,  pondering 
his  words;  then  her  e\es  went  back  to  the  bouquet,  and  his 
dwelt  once  more  upon  her. 

*'  Irene,  you  look  sober  to-day  ;  come,  cheer  up.  I  don't 
want  to  carry  that  grave  expression  away  with  me.  I  want  to 
remember  your  faoe  as  I  first  saw  it,  unshadowed." 

"  "What  do  you  mean  ?     Are  you  going  to  leave  home  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  day  after  to-morrow  I  bid  farewell  to  New  York  for 
a  long  time.  I  am  going  to  the  West  to  take  charge  of  a 
church." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Young  !  surely  you  are  not  in  earnest  ?  You  can 
not  intend  to  separate  yourself  from  your  family  ?*' 

She  dropped  her  flowers,  and  leaned  forwaid. 

"  Yes,  I  have  had  it  in  contemplation  for  more  than  a  year, 
and,  recently,  I  have  decided  to  remove  at  once." 

He  saw  the  great  sorrow  written  in  her  countenance,  the 
quick  flutter  of  her  lip,  the  large  drops  that  dimmed  the  violet 
eyes  and  gathered  on  the  long  golden  lashes,  and  far  sweeter 
than  the  Eolian  harps  was  the  broken  voice : 

"  What  shall  I  do  wnthout  you  ?  who  will  encourage  and 
advise  me  when  you  go  ?" 

She  leaned  her  forehead  on  her  hands,  and  a  tear  slid  down 
and  rested  on  her  chin.  The  sun  was  setting,  and  the  crimson 
light  firjoding  the  room  bathed  her  with  glory,  spreading  a  halo 
around  her.  He  held  his  breath  and  gazed  upon  the  drooping 
figure  and  bewitching  face ;  and,  in  after  years,  when  his  dark 
hair  had  grown  silvery  gray,  he  remembered  the  lovely  sun-lit 
vision  that  so  entranced  him,  leaving  an  indelible  image  on 
heart  and  brain.  He  gently  removed  the  hands,  and  holding 
them  in  his  said,  in  the  measured,  low  tone  so  indicative  of 
suppressed  emotion  : 

"  Irene,  my  friend,  you  attach  too  much  importance  to  the 
aid  which  I  might  render  you.  You  know  your  duty,  and  I 
feel  assured  will  not  require  to  be  reminded  of  it.  Henceforth 
our  paths  diverge  widely.  I  go  to  a  distant  section  of  our  land, 
there  to  do  my  Father's  work  ;  and,  ere  long,  having  completed 

6 


122  MACAKIA  ;    OE, 

the  prescribed  course,  you  will  return  to  your  Southern  home 
and  take  the  position  assigned  you  in  society.  Thus,  in  all 
human  probability,  we  shall  meet  no  more,  for " 

"  Oh,  sir  !  don't  say  that ;  j^ou  will  come  bark  to  visit  your 
family,  and  then  I  shall  see  you." 

"  That  is  scarcely  probable,  but  we  will  not  discuss  it  now. 
There  is,  however,  a  channel  of  communication  for  separated 
friends,  and  of  this  we  must  avail  ourselves.  I  shall  write  to 
you  from  western  wilds,  and  letters  from  you  will  most  plea- 
santly ripple  the  monotonous  life  I  expect  to  lead.  This  is  the 
last  opportunity  I  shall  have  to  speak  with  you ;  let  me  do  so 
freely,  just  as  I  would  to  Louisa.  You  are  young,  and  rather 
peculiarly  situated  ;  and  sometimes  I  fear  that,  in  the  great 
social  vortex  awaiting  you,  constant  temptation  and  frivolous 
associations  will  stifle  the  noble  impulses  nature  gave  to  guide 
you.  As  you  grow  older  you  will  more  fully  comprehend  my 
meaning,  and  find  that  there  are  social  problems  which  everj; 
true-hearted  man  and  woman  should  earnestly  strive  to  solve. 
These  will  gradually  unfold  themselves  as  the  web  of  time 
unravels  before  you.  You  will  occupy  an  elevated  stand-point 
of  view,  and  you  must  take  care  that,  unlike  the  great  mass  of 
mankind,  you  do  not  grow  callous,  turning  a  deaf  ear  to  the 
cry  *  the  laborers  are  few.''  It  is  not  woman's  place  to  obtrude 
herself  in  the  pulpit,  or  harangue  from  the  rostrum  ;  such  an 
abnormal  course  levels  the  distinctions  which  an  all-wise  God 
established  between  the  sexes,  but  the  aggregate  of  her  useful- 
ness is  often  greater  than  man's.  Irene,  I  want  you  to  wield 
the  vast  influence  your  Maker  has  given  you  nobly  and  for  His 
glory.  Let  your  unobtrusive  yet  consistent,  resolute,  unerring 
conduct  leave  its  impress  for  good  wherever  you  are  known.  I 
would  not  have  you  debar  yourself  from  a  single  avenue  of 
pure  enjoyment;  far  from  it.  Monkish  asceticism  and  puri- 
tanic bigotry  I  abhor ;  but  there  is  a  happy  medium  between 
the  wild  excesses  of  so-called  fashionable  life  and  the  strait- 
laced  rigidity  of  narrow-minded  phariseeism;  and  this  I  would 
earnestly  entreat  you  to  select.  To  discover  and  adhere  to 
this  medium  path  is  almost  as  difficult  as  to  skip  across  the 


ALTARS    OF    SACKIFICE.  123 

Arabic  Al-Sirat,  of  wl.ich  wo  read  last  week.  Ultraism  is  the 
curse  of  our  race,  as  exempIiHed  in  all  departments  of  society  , • 
avoid  it,  dear  child;  culrivate  enlarged  views  of  life,  suppress 
selfishness,  and  remember  that  charity  is  the  key-stone  of 
Christianity." 

"  I  have  not  tlie  strength  which  you  impute  to  me." 

"  Then  seek  it  from  the  Everlasting  source." 

*'  I  do,  but  God  does  not  hear  me." 

"  You  are  too  easily  disheartened  ;  strive  to  be  faithful  and 
He  will  aid  you,  brace  you,  uphold  you.  Will  it  be  any  comfort 
for  you  to  know  that  I  remember  you  in  my  prayers,  that  I  con- 
stantly bear  your  name  on  my  lips  to  the  throne  of  grace  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes  !  very  great  comfort.  Thank  you,  thank  you  ;  will 
you  always  pray  for  me  ?  If  I  thought  so  it  would  make  me 
happier." 

"Then  rest  assured  that  I  always  shall  ;  and,  Irene,  when 
sorrows  come  upon  you,  for  come  they  must  to  all,  do  not  for- 
get that  you  have  at  least  one  firm,  faithful  friend,  waiting  and 
anxious  to  aid  you  by  every  means  in  his  power." 

Disengaging  her  fingers,  which  still  clasped  his  tightly,  he  mov- 
ed his  chair  backward  and  took  a  small  blank  book  from  his 
pocket,  saying  : 

"  You  once  asked  me  to  give  you  a  catalogue  of  those  works 
which  I  thought  it  advisable  for  you  to  study,  before  you  plung- 
ed into  miscellaneous  reading.  Such  a  list'  you  will  find  here, 
and  my  experience  has  enabled  me  to  classify  them  so  as  to  save 
you  some  of  the  trouble  which  I  had  at  your  age.  In  examin- 
mg  it,  you  will  see  that  I  have  given  prominence  to  the  so-called 
'  Xatural  Sciences.^  As  these  furnish  data  for  almost  all  branches 
of  investigation  now-a-day  (there  being  a  growing  tendency  to 
argue  from  the  analogy  of  physics),  you  cannot  too  thoroughly 
acquaint  yourself  with  all  that  appertains  to  the  subject.  The 
writings  of  Humboldt,  Hugh  Miller,  Cuvier  and  Agassiz  consti- 
tute a  thesaurus  of  scientific  information  essential  to  a  correct 
appreciation  of  the  questions  now  agitating  the  thinking  world  ; 
and  as  you  proceed  you  will  find  the  wonderful  harmony  of  crea- 
tion unfolding  itself,  proclahning,  in  unmistakable  accents,  that 


12i  MACARIA  ;    OR, 

the  works  of  God  '  are  good.'  As  time  rolls  on,  the  great  truth 
looms  up  colossal,  '  Science  and  Christianity  are  hand-maids,  not 
antao-onists.'     Irene,  remember  : 

'  A  pagan  kissing  for  a  step  of  Pan, 
The  ■wild  goat's  hoof-print  on  the  loamy  down, 
Exceeds  our  modern  thinker  who  turns  back 
The  strata — granite,  limestone,  coal,  and  claj', 
Concluding  coldly  with  '  Here's  law  !  where's  God?'  " 

"  Can't  you  stay  longer  and  talk  to  me  ?"  said  Irene,  as  he 
gave  the  blank  book  to  her  and  rose. 

"  No  ;  I  promised  to  address  the Street  Sabbath-school 

cliildren  to-night,  and  must  look  over  my  notes  before  I  go.'» 
He  glanced  at  his  watch,  smiled  pleasantly,  and  left  her. 

The  following  day  was  dreary  to  all  in  that  dwelling  :  Mrs. 
Young  went  from  room  to  room,  collecting  various  articles  be- 
longing to  her  son,  making  no  efforts  to  conceal  the  tears  that 
rolled  constantly  over  her  cheeks  ;  and  now  and  then  Louisa's 
sobs  broke  the  sad  silence.  Harvey  was  engaged  in  the  library 
packing  his  books,  and  Irene  saw  him  no  more  till  after  tea. 
Then  he  came  up  with  his  mother,  and  kindly  inquired  concern- 
ing her  arm.  He  saw  tliat  she  shared  the  distress  of  the  family, 
and,  glancing  over  his  shoulder  at  his  mother,  he  said,  laugh- 
ingly : 

"  She  looks  too  doleful  to  be  left  here  alone  all  the  evening. 
Can't  we  contrive  to  take  her  down  stairs  to  the  sitting-room  ? 
What  think  you,  mother  ?" 

"  Let  her  decide  it  herself.  Shall  Harvey  take  you  down,  my 
dear  ?  It  is  his  last  evening  at  home,  you  know."  Her  voice 
faltered  as  she  spoke. 

"  I  should  like  to  join  you  all  at  prayer  once  more,  and  I  think 
I  could  walk  down  slowly,  with  a  little  help.  Suppose  you  let 
me  try  ;  I  walked  a  few  steps  yesterday,  by  pushing  a  chair  be- 
fore me." 

"  Be  very  careful  not  to  strain  your  foot."  She  wrapped  a. 
light  shawl  around  the  girl's  shoulders,  and  leaning  on  the  minis- 
ter's arm,  she  limped  to  the  head  of  the  stah'S  ;  but  he  saw,  from 


ALTAKS    OF    SACRIFICE.  125 

the  wrinkle  on  her  forehead,  tliat  the  effort  .t^ave  her  pain,  and 
taking  her  in  his  arms  as  if  she  were  an  infiint,  he  replaced  her 
in  the  chair. 

"  I  see  it  will  not  do  to  carry  you  down  yet.  You  arc  not 
strong-  enough,  and  beside,  you  ought  to  be  asleep.  Irene,  would 
you  like  for  nie  to  read  and  pray  with  you  before  I  say  gooc- 
by  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  it  would  give  me  great  pleasure." 

Mrs.  Young  drew  the  candle-stand  and  Bible  from  its  corner 
and  taking  a  seat  near  the  arm  chair,  Harvey  turned  over  the 
leaves  and  slowly  read  the  sixty-third  and  sixty-fourth  chapters  of 
Isaiah.  Ilis  voice  was  low  and  sweet  as  a  woman's,  and  the  calm, 
lofty  brow  on  which  the  liglit  gleamed  was  smooth  and  fair  as  a 
child's,  bearing  no  foot-prints  of  the  thirty  years  that  had  crept 
over  it.  Wlien  the  reading  was  concluded,  he  knelt  and  prayed 
fervently  for  the  girl  who  sat  with  her  face  hidden  in  her  arms  ; 
prayed  that  she  might  be  guided  by  the  Almighty  hand  into 
paths  of  peace  and  usefulness  ;  that  she  might  be  strengthened 
to  do  the  work  required  of  her.  There  was  no  unsteadiness  in 
his  tone,  no  trace  of  emotion,  when  he  ended  his  prayer  and  stood 
np  before  her.  Irene  was  deeply  moved,  and  when  she  essayed 
to  thank  him,  found  it  impossible  to  pronounce  her  words.  Tears 
were  gliding  down  her  cheeks  ;  he  put  back  the  hair,  and  taking 
the  face  softly  in  his  palms,  looked  long  and  earnestly  at  its  fas- 
cinating beauty.  Tiie  great,  glistening  blue  eyes  gazed  into  his, 
and  the  silky  lashes  and  rich  scarlet  lips  trembled.  lie  felt  the 
hot  blood  surging  like  a  lava-tide  in  his  veins,  and  his  heart  ris- 
ing in  fierce  rebellion  at  the  stern  interdict  which  he  saw  fit  to 
lay  upon  it ;  but  no  token  of  all  this  came  to  the  cool,  calm  sur- 
face. 

"  Good-by,  Irene.  May  God  bless  you,  my  dear  little  friend!  " 
He  drew  the  face  close  to  his  own  as  though  he  would  have 
kissed  her,  but  forbore,  and  merely  raising  her  hands  to  his  lips, 
turned  and  left  the  room.  Yerily,  greater  is  ''  he  that  ruleth  his 
own  spirit  than  he  that  taketh  a  city."  He  left  before  breakfast 
the  ensuing  morning,  bearing  his  secret  with  him,  having  given 
no  intimation,  by  word  or  look,  of  the  struggle  which  his  resolu- 


126  macaeta;  or, 

tion  cost  liim.  Once  his  motlier  had  fancied  that  he  felt  more 
than  a  friendly  interest  in  their  guest,  but  the  absolute  repose  of 
his  countenance  and  grave  serenity  of  his  manner  during  the  last 
week  of  his  stay  dispersed  all  her  suspicions.  From  a  luxurious 
home,  fond  friends,  and  the  girlish  face  he  loved  better  than  his 
life,  the  minister  went  forth  to  his  distant  post,  offering  in  sacri- 
fice to  God,  upon  the  altar  of  duty,  his  throbbing  heart  and 
hopes  of  earthly  happiness, 

A  cloud  of  sadness  settled  on  the  household  after  his  departure, 
and  scarcely  less  than  Louisa's  was  Irene's  silent  grief.  The 
confinement  grew  doubly  irksome  when  his  voice  and  step  had 
passed  from  the  threshold,  and  she  looked  forward  impatiently  to 
her  release.  The  sprain  proved  more  serious  than  she  had  first 
imagined,  and  the  summer  vacation  set  in  before  she  was  able  to 
walk  with  ease.  Mr.  Huntingdon  had  been  apprised  of  her  long 
absence  from  school,  and  one  day,  when  she  was  cautiously  try- 
ing her  strength,  he  arrived,  without  having  given  premonition  of 
his  visit.  As  he  took  her  in  his  arms  and  marked  the  alteration 
in  her  thin  face,  the  listlessness  of  her  manner,  the  sorrowful 
gravity  of  her  countenance,  his  fears  were  fully  aroused,  and, 
holding  her  to  his  heart,  he  exclaimed  : 

"  My  daughter  !  my  beauty  !  I  must  take  you  out  of  New 
York." 

"  Yes,  father,  take  me  home  ;  do  take  me  home."  She  clasped 
her  arms  round  his  neck  and  nestled  her  face  close  to  his. 

"  Not  yet,  queen.  AVe  will  go  to  the  Catskill,  to  Lake  George, 
to  Niagara.  A  few  weeks  travel  will  invigorate  you.  I  have 
written  to  Hugh  to  meet  us  at  ^Montreal  ;  he  is  with  a  gay  party, 
and  you  shall  have  a  royal  time.  A  pretty  piece  of  business, 
truly,  that  you  can't  amuse  yourself  in  any  other  way  than  by 
l)reaking  half  the  bones  in  your  body." 

"  Father,  I  would  rather  go  home.  Oh  !  I  am  so  tired  of 
this  city,  so  sick  of  that  boarding-school.  Do,  please,  let  me  (^o 
back  v.'itii  you." 

"  Oh,  nonsense,  Irene.  Lift  up  your  sleeve  and  let  me  see 
your  arm  ;  stretch  it  out  ;  all  right,  I  believe  ;  sti'aight  enough. 
You  were  walking  just  now  :  liow  is  vour  foot  ?" 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  127 

"  Almost  well,  I  tliiiik  ;  occasionally  I  have  a  twinge  of  pain 
when  I  bear  my  whole  weight  on  it." 

"  Be  sure  you  do  nut  over-tax  it  for  a  while.  By  Monday  you 
will  be  able  to  start  to  Saratoga.  Your  aunt  sent  a  trunk  of 
clothing,  and,  by  the  way,  here  is  a  letter  from  her  and  one  from 
Arnold.  The  doctor  worries  considerably  about  you  ;  is  afraid 
you  will  not  be  [)roperly  attended  to." 

Thus  the  summer  programme  was  determined  without  any 
reference  to  the  wishes  of  the  one  most  concerned,  and,  knowing 
her  father's  disposition,  she  silently  acquiesced.  After  much 
persuasion,  Mr.  Iluntingdom  prevailed  on  Louisa's  parents  to 
allow  her  to  accompany  them.  The  mother  consented  very  re- 
luctantly, and  on  the  appointed  day  the  party  set  off  for  Saratoga. 
The  change  was  eminently  beneficial,  and  before  they  reached 
Canada  Irene  seemed  perfectly  restored.  But  her  father  was 
not  satisfied.  Her  unwonted  taciturnity  aimoyed  and  puzzled 
him  ;  he  knew  that  beneath  the  calm  surface  some  strong  under- 
current rolled  swiftly,  and  he  racked  his  brain  to  discover  what 
had  rendered  her  so  reserved.  Louisa's  joyous,  elastic  spirits 
probably  heightened  the  effect  of  her  companion's  gravity,  and 
the  contrast  daily  presented  could  not  fail  to  arrest  Mr.  Hunt- 
ingdon's attention.  On  arriving  at  Montreal  the  girls  were  left 
for  a  few  moments  in  the  parlor  of  the  hotel,  while  Mr.  Hunt- 
ingdon weut  to  register  their  names.  Irene  and  Louisa  stood 
by  the  window  looking  out  into  the  street,  when  a  happy,  ringing 
voice  exclaimed  : 

"  Here  you  are,  at  last,  Irie  I  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  your 
curls  as  you  passed  the  dining-room  door." 

She  turned  to  meet  her  cousin  and  held  out  her  hand. 

"  Does  your  majesty  suppose  I  shall  be  satisfied  with  the  tips 
of  your  fingers  ?     Pshaw,  Irie  !  I  will  have  my  kiss." 

He  threw  his  arm  round  her  shoulder,  drew  down  the  shielding 
hands,  and  kissed  her  twice. 

"  Oh,  Hugh  !  behave  yourself  1  Miss  Louisa  Young,  my 
cousin,  Huj^h  Sevmour." 

He  bowed,  and  shook  hands  with  the  stranger,  then  seized  his 
cousin's  fingers  and  fixed  his  fine  eyes  affectionately  upon  her. 


128  MACARIA  ;    OR, 

*  It  seems  an  age  since  I  saw  joii,  Trio.  Come,  sit  down  and 
let  me  look  at  you  ;  how  stately  you  have  grown,  to  be  sure  ! 
More  like  a  queen  than  ever  ;  absolutely  two  inches  taller  since 
you  entered  boarding-school.  Trie,  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you 
again  !"  He  snatched  up  a  handful  of  curls  and  drew  them  across 
liis  lips,  careless  of  what  Louisa  might  think. 

''  Thank  you,  Hugh.     I  am  quite  as  glad  to  see  you." 

"  Oh,  humbug  !  I  know  better.  You  would  rather  see  Para- 
gon any  day,  ten  to  one.  I  will  kill  that  dog  yet,  and  shoot 
Erebus,  too  ;  see  if  I  don't  !  then  maybe  you  can  think  of  some- 
body else.  When  you  are  glad  you  show  it  in  your  eyes,  and 
now  they  are  as  still  as  violets  under  icicles.  I  think  you 
might  love  me  a  little,  at  least  as  much  as  a  dog." 

"  Hush  !  I  do  love  you,  but  I  don't  choose  to  tell  it  to  every- 
body in  Montreal," 

Mr.  Huntingdon's  entrance  diverted  the  conversation,  and 
Irene  was  glad  to  escape  to  her  own  room. 

"  Your  cousin  seems  to  be  very  fond  of  you,"  observed  Louisa, 
as  she  unbraided  her  hair. 

"  He  is  very  impulsive  and  demonstrative,  that  is  all." 

**  How  handsome  he  is  !" 

"  Do  you  think  so,  really  ?  Take  care,  Louisa  !  I  will  tell 
him,  and,  by  way  of  crushing  his  vanity,  add  '  de  gustibus,  etc., 
etc.,  eteJ^^ 

*'How  old  is  he?" 

"  In  his  twentieth  year." 

From  that  time  the  cousins  were  thrown  constantly  together  ; 
wherever  they  went  Hugh  took  charge  of  Irene,  while  Mr.  Hun- 
tingdon gave  his  attention  to  Louisa.  But  the  eagle  eye  was 
upon  his  daughter's  movements  ;  he  watched  her  countenance, 
weighed  her  words,  tried  to  probe  her  heart.  Week  after  week 
he  found  nothing  tangible.  Hugh  was  gay,  careless  ;  Irene 
equable,  but  reserved.  Finally  they  turned  their  faces  home- 
ward, and  in  October  found  themselves  once  more  in  New  York. 
Mr.  Huntingdon  prepared  to  return  South  and  Hugh  to  sail  for 
Europe,  while  Irene  remained  at  the  hotel  until  the  morning  of 
her  cousin's  departure. 


ALTARS    OF    SACRTF^ICE.  129 

A  private  parlor  adjoined  the  room  slie  occupied,  and  liere  he 
came  to  say  farewell.  She  knew  that  he  had  already  had  a  long 
conversation  with  her  father,  and  as  he  threw  himself  on  the 
sofa  and  seized  one  of  her  hands,  she  instinctively  shrank  from 
him. 

"  Irene,  here  is  my  miniature.  I  wanted  you  to  ask  for  it, 
but  I  see  that  you  won't  do  it.  I  know  very  well  that  you  will 
not  value  it  one-thousandth  part  as  much  as  I  do  your  likeness 
here  on  my  watch-chain  ;  but  perhaps  it  will  remind  you  of  me 
sometimes.  How  I  shall  want  to  see  you  before  I  come  home  I 
You  know  you  belong  to  me.  Uncle  gave  you  to  me,  and  when 
I  come  back  from  Europe  we  will  be  married.  We  are  both 
very  young,  I  know  ;  but  it  has  been  settled  so  long.  Irie,  my 
beauty,  I  wish  you  would  love  me  more  ;  you  are  so  cold.  Won't 
you  try  ?" 

He  leaned  down  to  kiss  her,  but  she  turned  her  face  hastily 
away  and  answered  resolutely  : 

"  No,  I  can't  love  you  other  than  as  my  cousin  ;  I  would  not, 
if  I  could.  I  do  not  think  it  would  be  right,  and  I  won't  pro- 
mise to  try.  Father  has  no  right  to  give  me  to  you,  or  to  any- 
body else.  I  tell  you  now  I  belong  to  myself,  and  only  I  can 
give  myself  away.  Hugh,  I  don't  consider  this  settled  at  all. 
You  might  as  well  know  the  truth  at  once  ;  1  have  some  voice 
in  the  matter." 

Mr.  Huntingdon  had  evidently  prepared  him  for  something  of 
this  kind  on  her  part,  and,  though  his  face  flushed  angrily,  he 
took  no  notice  of  the  remonstrance. 

*'  I  siiall  write  to  you  frequently,  and  I  hope  that  you  will  be 
punctual  in  replying.  Irie,  give  me  your  left  haud  just  a  minute  ; 
wear  tiiis  ring  till  I  come  back,  to  remind  you  that  you  have  a 
cousin  across  the  ocean." 

He  tried  to  force  the  flashing  jewel  on  her  slender  finger,  but 
she  resisted,  and  rose,  struggling  to  withdraw  her  hand. 

"  No,  no,  Hugh  !  I  can't  ;  I  won't.  I  know  very  well  what 
that  ring  means,  and  I  can  not  accept  it.  Release  my  hand  ;  I 
tell  you  I  won't  wear  it." 

6* 


130  MA  CARTA  ;    OR, 

"  Come,  Hugh  ;  you  have  not  a  monieut  to  spare  ;  the  car- 
riage is  waiting."  Mr.  Huntingdon  threw  open  the  door,  hav- 
ing heard  every  word  tliat  had  passed.  Hugh  dropped  the  ring 
in  his  vest-pocket  and  rose. 

"  Well,  Lie,  I  suppose  I  must  bid  you  farewell.  Two  or 
three  years  will  change  you,  my  dearest  little  cousin.  Good- 
by  ;  think  of  me  now  and  then,  and  learn  to  love  me  by  the 
time  I  come  home." 

She  suffered  him  to  take  both  her  hands  and  kiss  her  tenderly, 
for  her  father  stood  there  and  she  could  not  refuse ;  but  the 
touch  of  his  lips  burned  her  long  after  he  was  gone.  She 
put  on  her  bonnet,  and,  when  her  father  returned  from  the 
steamer,  they  entered  the  carriage  which  was  to  convey  her  to 
the  dreary,  dreaded  school.  As  they  rolled  along  Broadway, 
Mr.  Huntingdon  coolly  took  her  hand  and  placed  Hugh's  ring 
upon  it,  saying,  authoritatively  : 

"  Hugh  told  me  you  refused  to  accept  his  parting  gift,  and 
seemed  much  hurt  about  it.  There  is  no  reason  why  you  should 
not  wear  it,  and  in  future  1  do  not  wish  to  see  you  without  it. 
Remember  this,  my  daughter." 

"Father,  it  is  wrong  for  me  to  wear  it,  unless  I  expected 
to " 

"  I  understand  the  whole  matter  perfectly.  Now,  Irene,  let 
me  hear  no  more  about  it.  I  wish  you  would  learn  that  it  is  a 
child's  duty  to  obey  her  parent.  No  more  words,  if  you  please, 
on  the  subject." 

She  felt  that  this  was  not  the  hour  for  resistance,  and  wisely 
forbore  ;  but  he  saw  rebellion  written  in  the  calm,  fixed  eye, 
and  read  it  in  the  curved  lines  of  the  full  upper  lip.  She  had 
entreated  him  to  take  her  home,  and,  only  the  night  before, 
renewed  her  pleadings.  But  his  refusal  was  positive,  and  now 
she  went  back  to  the  hated  school  without  a  visible  token  of 
regret.     She  saw  her  trunks  consigned  to  the  porter,  listened 

to  a  brief  conversation  between  Dr. and  her  father,  and, 

after  a  hasty  embrace  and  half-dozen  words,  watched  the  tall, 
soldierly  form  re-enter  the  carriage.  Then  she  went  slowly  up  the 
broad  stairway  to  her  cell-like  room,  and  with  dry  eyes  unpacked 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  131 

her  clothes,  locked  np  the  ring  in  her  jewelry-box,  and  prepared 
to  resume  her  studies. 

The  stcirry  veil  concealing  the  Holy  of  Holies  of  her  Futurity 
had  swayed  just  once,  and  as  quickly  swept  back  to  its  wonted 
folds  ;  but  in  that  one  swift  glance  she  saw,  instead  of  hovering 
Cherubim,  gaunts  pectres,  woful,  appalling  as  Brimo.  At  some 
period  of  life  all  have  this  diia,  transient,  tantalizing  glimpse  of 
the  inexorable  Three,  the  mystic  Moira?,  weaving  with  steely 
fingers  the  unyielding  web  of  human  destiny.  Some  grow 
cowardly,  striving  to  wend  their  way  behind  or  beyond  the 
out-spread  net-work,  tripping,  at  last,  in  the  midst  of  the  snare  ; 
and  some,  with  set  teeth  and  rigid  limbs,  scorning  to  dodge 
the  issue,  grapple  with  the  Sisters,  resolved  to  wrench  the  cun- 
ning links  asunder,  trusting  solely  to  the  palladium  of  Will. 
Irene's  little  feet  had  become  entangled  in  the  fatal  threads,  and, 
with  no  thought  of  flight,  she  measured  the  length  and  breadth 
of  the  web,  nerving  herself  to  battle  till  the  death. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

A  HALO  seems  to  linger  around  the  haunt?  of  Genius,  as  though 
the  outer  physical  world  shaped  itself  in  likeness  to  the  Ideal, 
and  at  the  door  of  Mr.  Clifton's  studio,  crude,  matter-of-fact 
utilitarians  should  have  ''  put  off  their  shoes  from  their  feet"  be- 
fore treading  precincts  sacred  to  Art.  It  was  a  long,  lofty,  nar- 
row room,  with  a  grate  at  one  end,  and  two  windows  at  the 
other,  opening  on  the  street.  The  walls  were  stained  of  a  pale 
olive  hue,  and  the  floor  was  covered  with  a  carpet  of  green,  em- 
broidered with  orange  sheaves  of  wheat.  In  color,  the  morocco- 
cushioned  chairs  and  sofas  matched  it  well,  and  from  the  broad, 
massive  cornice  over  the  windows — cornice  representing  writhing 
serpents  in  clusters  of  oak  leaves — folds  of  golden-flowered  bro- 
catel  hung  stiff  and  stately  to  the  floor.  The  ceiling  rose  dome- 
like iu  the  centre,  aud  here  a  skylight  poured  down  a  flood  of. 


132  MAC  ARIA  ;    OR 


radiance  on  sunny  days,  and  furnished  a  faint  tattoo  when  rain- 
drops rattled  over  its  panes.     Crowded  as  the  most  ancient  cata- 
combs of  Thebes  was  tliis  aidier,  but  witii  a  trifle  less  ghostly 
tenants.     Plaster  statues  loomed  up  in  the  corners,  bronze  busts 
and  marble  statuettes  crowned  mantle   and    sundry  tables  oud 
wooden  pedestals  ;  quaint  antique  vases  of  china,  crystal,  alabas- 
ter, terra-cotta,  and  wood  dark  as  ebony  with  age  and  polished 
like  glass,  stood  here  and  there  in  a  sort  of  well-established, 
regular  irregularity,  as  if  snatched  from  the  ashy  shroud  of  Her- 
culaueum  aud  put  down  hastily  in  the  first  convenient  place.     An 
Etruscan  vase,  time  and  lichen-stained,  was  made  the  base  for  an 
unframed  piece  of  canvas,  which  leaned  back  against  the  wall  ; 
and  another,  whose  handles  were  Medusa-heads,    and    before 
which,  doubtless,   sonie   Italian  maiden,  in  the  palmy  days  of 
Rome,  had  stood  twining  the  feathery  sprays  of  blossoms  whose 
intoxicating  perfume  might  still  linger  in  its  marble  depths,  was 
now  the  desecrated  receptacle  of  a  meerschaum  and  riding-whip. 
The  walls  were  tapestried  with  paintings  of  all  sizes,  many  richly 
framed,  one  or  two  covered  with  glass,  aud  so  dark  as  to  pass, 
without  close  examination,  for  a  faithful  representation,  of  Pha- 
raoh's ninth  plague  ;  some  lying  helplessly  on  the  olive  back- 
ground, others  leaning  from  the  wall  at  an  acute  angle,  looking 
threatening,  as  if  fiery  souls  had  entered  and  stirred  up  the 
figures — among  which  Deianira,  bending  forward  with  jealous 
rage  to  scan  the  lovely  Jole,  destined  to  prove  the  At^  of  her 
bouse.     Where  a  few  feet  of  pale  green  would  have  peered  forth 
between  large  pictures,  crayon  sketches  were  suspended  ;  and  ou 
the  top  of  more  than  one  carved  frame  perched  stuffed  birds  of 
gorgeous  tropical  hues,  a  mimic  aviary,  motionless  and  silent  as 
if  Perseus  had  stepped  into  a  choral  throng  and  held  up  the  Gor- 
gon's head.     In  the  centre  of  the  room,  under  the  skylight,  stood 
the  artist's  easel,  holding  an  unfinished  picture,  and  over  its  face 
was  drawn  a  piece  of  black  silk.     Farther  off  was  another  easel, 
smaller,  and  here  was  the  dim  outhne  of  a  female  head  traced  by 
the  fair,  slender  fingers  of  a  tyro.     It  was  late  October  ;  a  feeble 
flame  flickered  in  the  grate  ;  on  the  rug  crouched  an  English 
spaniel,  creeping  closer  as  the  heat  died  out  and  the  waning  light 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  133 

of  (lay  crradiially  receded,  leavintc  the  room  dusky,  save  where  a 
shuitiiig  line  of  yellow  quivered  down  from  the  roof  and  gilt  the 
folds  of  black  silk.  At  one  of  tlie  windows  .stood  Electra,  half 
concealed  by  the  heavy  green  and  gold  drapery,  one  dimpled 
hand  clinging  to  the  curtains,  the  other  pressed  against  the  panes, 
as  she  watched  the  forms  hurrying  along  the  street  below.  The 
gas  was  already  lighted  on  the  crowded  highways  of  the  great 
city,  and  the  lamp  just  beneath  the  window  glared  up  like  an 
electric  eye.  She  was  dressed  in  half-mourning,  in  sober  gray, 
with  a  black  crape  collar  at  the  throat.  "  There  is  no  exquisite 
beauty  without  some  strangeness  in  the  proportions,"  says  Barou 
A'erulam  ;  and  the  strangeness  of  Electra's  countenance  certainly 
lay  in  the  unusual  width  between  the  eye-browns.  Whatever  sig- 
nificance learned  phrenologists  or  physiognomists  attach  to  this 
peculiarity,  at  all  events  it  imparted  piquancy  to  the  features  that 
I  am  striving  to  show  you  by  that  flaming  gas-light.  Her 
watching  attitude  denoted  anxiety,  and  the  bloom  on  her  cheek 
had  faded,  leaving  the  whole  face  colorless.  The  lower  lip  was 
drawn  under,  and  held  hard  and  tight  by  the  pearly  teeth,  while 
the  wide-strained  eyes — 

"  Shining  eyes  like  antique  jewels  set  in  Parian  statne-stone — " 

searched  every  face  that  passed  the  window.  "  That  hope  de- 
ferred maketh  the  heart  sick,"  she  stood  there  in  attestation  ; 
yet  it  was  not  passive  sorrow  printed  on  her  countenance — rather 
the  momentary,  breathless  exhaustion  of  a  wild  bird  beating  oat 
its  life  in  useless  conflict  with  the  unyielding  wires  of  its  cage. 
The  dying  hope,  the  despairing  dread,  in  that  fair  young  face, 
beggars  language,  and  as  the  minutes  crept  by  the  words  burst 
from  her  lips  :  "  Will  he  never,  never  come  !" 

For  three  weeks  she  had  received  no  letter  from  Russell  ;  he 
was  remarkably  punctual,  and  this  long,  unprecedented  interval 
liiled  her,  at  first,  with  vague  uneasiness,  which  grew  finally  into 
horrible  foreboding.  For  ten  days  she  had  stood  at  this  hour, 
at  the  same  window,  waiting  for  Mr.  Clifton's  return  from  the 
post-office.     Ten  times  the  word  "  No  letter"  had  fallen,  like  the 


134  macaria;  ok, 

voice  of  doom,  on  her  tlirobbing  heart.     "  No  letter  !" — she 
heard  it  in  feverish  dreams,  and  fled  continually  from  its  hissing. 
Only  those  who  have  known  what  it  is  to  stake  their  hopes  on  a 
sheet  of  letter-paper  ;  to  wake  at  dawn,  counting  the  hours,  till 
the  mail  is  due,  working  diligently  to  murder  time  till  that  hour 
rolls  round  ;  to  send  a  messenger,  in  hot  haste,  to  watch  the 
clock,  giving  him  just  so  many  minutes  to  go  and  come  ;  to  lis- 
ten for  the  sound  of  returning  steps,  to  meet  him  at  the  door 
with  outstretched  hands,  and  receive — "  no  letter  ;"  only  those 
who  have  writhed  on  this  rack  know  the  crushing  thought  with 
which   they  pressed   cold   hands  to   aching  hearts  ;  '*  another 
twenty-four  hours  to  be  endured  before  the  next  mail  comes  in  ; 
what  shall  I  do  till  then  ?"     These  are  the  trials  that  plough 
w^rinkles  in  smooth  girlish  brows  ;  that  harden  tlie  outline  of  soft 
rosy  lips  ;  that  sicken  the  weary  soul,  and  teach  women  decep- 
tion.    Electra  knew  that  Mr.  Clifton  watched  her  narrowly,  sus- 
piciously ;  and  behind  the  mask  of  gay  rapid  words,  and  ringing 
mirthless  laughter,  she  tried  to  hide  her  suffering.     Ah  !  God 
pity  all  who  live  from  day  to  day  hanging  upon  the  brittle  thread 
of  hope.     On  this  eleventh  day  suspense  reached  its  acme,  and 
time  seemed  to  have  locked  its  wheels  to  lengthen  her  torture. 
Mr.  Clifton  had  been  absent  longer  than  usual  ;  most  unwitting- 
ly we  are  sometimes  grand  inquisitors,  loitering  by  the  way  when 
waiting  hearts  are  secretly,  silently  dropping  blood.     At  last  an 
omnibus  stopped,  and  Mr.  Clifton  stepped  out,  with  a  bundle  of 
papers  under  his  arm.     Closer  pressed  the  pallid  face  against  the 
glass  ;  firmer  grew  the  grasp  of  the  icy  fingers  on  the  brocatel  ; 
she  had  no  strength  to  meet  him.     He  closed  the  door,  hung  up 
his  hat,  and  looked  into  the  studio  ;  no  fire  in  the  grate,  no  light 
in  the  gas-globes — everything  cold  and  dark  save  the  reflection 
on  that  front  window. 

"  Electra  1" 

"I  am  here." 

"  No  letter." 

She  stood  motionless  a  moment  ;  but  the  brick  walls  opposite, 
the  trees,  the  lamp-posts  spun  around,  like  maple  leaves  in  an 
autumn  gale. 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  135 

"  My  owlet  !  why  don't  you  have  a  li^lit  and  some  fire  ?" 

He  stumbled  toward  her,  and  put  his  hand  on  her  shoulder, 
but  she  shrank  away,  and,  lighting  the  gas,  rang  for  coal. 

"  There  is  something  terrible  the  matter  ;  Russell  is  either  ill 
or  dead.     I  must  go  to  him." 

"  Xonsensc  !  sheer  nonsense  ;  he  is  busy,  that  is  all.  Your 
cousin  has  forgotten  you  for  the  time  ;  after  a  while  he  will 
write.  You  are  too  exacting  ;  young  men  sometimes  find  con- 
stant, regular  correspondence  a  bore  ;  a  letter  every  week  is  too 
much  to  expect  of  him.     Don't  be  cliildish,  IClectra." 

As  she  noticed  the  frown  on  his  face,  a  dark  suspicion  seized 
her  ;  "  perhaps  he  had  intercepted  her  letters."  Could  he  stoop 
to  such  an  astifice  ? 

"  Electra,  I  would  try  to  divert  my  mind.  After  all,  his  let- 
ters are  short,  and  I  should  judge,  rather  unsatisfactory." 

"  What  do  you  know  of  the  length  or  contents  of  his  let- 
ters ?-•' 

"  I  know  they  are  brief,  because  I  occasionally  see  them  open 
in  your  hand  ;  I  judge  that  they  are  unsatisfactory  from  the 
cloud  on  your  face  whenever  they  come.  But  I  have  no  dispo- 
sition to  contest  the  value  of  his  correspondence  with  you.  That 
article  on  chiaroscuro  has  arrived  at  last ;  if  you  feel  inclined, 
you  can  begin  it  at  once." 

Chiaroscuro,  forsooth  1  Mockery  !  She  had  quite  chiaro- 
scuro enough,  and  to  spare  ;  but  the  smile  on  the  artist's  lip 
stung  her,  and,  without  a  word,  she  took  a  seat  at  his  side  and 
began  to  read.  Page  after  page  was  turned,  technicalities 
slipped  through  her  lips,  but  she  understood  as  little  of  the  essay 
as  if  the  language  had  been  Sanscrit  instead  of  Saxon  ;  for,  like 
the  deep,  undying  murmur  of  the  restless  sea,  there  rang  in  her 
ears,  "  Xo  letter  !  no  letter  !"  As  she  finished  the  pamphlet 
and  threw  it  on  the  table,  her  hands  dropped  listlessly  on  her 
lap.  Mr.  Clifton  was  trying  to  read  her  countenance,  and  im- 
patient of  his  scrutiny,  she  rose  to  seek  her  own  room.  Just 
then  the  door-bell  rang  sharply  ;  she  supposed  it  was  some 
brother -artist  coming  to  spend  an  hour,  and  turned  to  go. 

**  Wait  a  minute  ;    I  want  to ;"  he  paused,  for  at  that 


136  MACAEIA  ;    OR, 

instant  she  heard  a  voice  which,  even  amid  the  din  of  Shiuar, 
would  have  been  unmistakable  to  her,  and  breaking  from  him, 
she  sprang  to  the  threshold  and  met  her  cousin. 

"  Oh,  Russell  I  I  thought  you  had  forgotten  me." 

"  What  put  such  a  ridiculous  thought  into  your  head  ?  My 
last  letter  must  have  prepared  you  to  expect  me." 

"  What  letter  ?     I  have  had  none  for  three  weeks." 

"  One  in  which  I  mentioned  Mr.  Campbell's  foreign  appoint- 
ment, and  the  position  of  secretary  which  he  tendered  me.  Elec- 
tra,  let  me  speak  to  Mr.  Clifton." 

As  he  advanced  and  greeted  the  artist  she  heard  a  quick, 
snapping  sound,  and  saw  the  beautiful  Bohemian  glass  paper- 
cutter  her  guardian  had  been  using  lying  shivered  to  atoms,  on 
the  rug.  The  fluted  handle  was  crushed  in  his  fingers,  and  drops 
of  blood  oozed  over  the  left  hand.  Ere  she  could  allude  to  it 
he  thrust  his  hand  into  his  pocket  and  desired  Russell  to  be 
seated. 

"  This  is  a  pleasure  totally  unexpected.  What  is  the  appoint- 
ment of  which  you  spoke  !" 

"  Mr.  Campbell  has  been  appointed  Mhiister  to ,  and 

sails  next  week.  I  am  surprised  that  you  have  not  heard  of  it 
from  tiie  public  journals  ;  many  of  them  have  spoken  of  it,  and 
warmly  commended  the  selection.  I  accompany  him  in  the 
capacity  of  secretary,  and  shall,  meanwhile,  prosecute  my  studies 
under  his  direction." 

The  gray,  glittering  eyes  of  the  artist  sought  those  of  his 
pupils,  and  for  an  instant  hers  quailed  ;  but,  rallying,  she  looked 
fully,  steadfastly  at  him,  resolved  to  play  out  the  game,  scorn- 
ing to  Ijare  her  heart  to  his  scrutiny.  She  had  fancied  that 
Russell's  affection  had  prompted  this  visit  ;  now  it  was  apparent 
that  he  came  to  New  York  to  take  a  steamer,  not  to  see  her  ;  to 
put  the  stormy  Atlantic  between  them.  The  foaming  draught 
which  she  had  snatched  to  her  lips  so  eagerly,  so  joyfully,  was 
turning  to  hemlock  as  she  tasted  ;  and  though  she  silently  put 
the  cup  from  her,  it  was  done  smilingly  ;  there  were  no  wry  faces, 
no  gestures  of  disgust. 

"  New   York   certainly  agrees  with  you,  Electra  ;  you  have 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  137 

groAvn  and  improved  very  much  since  you  came  Xorth.  I  never 
saw  such  color  in  your  cheeks  before  ;  I  can  scarcely  believe  that 
you  are  the  same  fragile  child  I  put  into  the  stage  one  year  ago. 
Tiiis  reconciles  me  to  having  given  you  up  to  Mr.  Clifton  ;  he  is 
a  better  guardian  than  I  could  have  been.  But  tell  me  some- 
thing more  about  these  new  relatives  you  spoke  of  having  found 
there." 

^Ir.  Clifton  left  the  room,  and  the  two  sat  side  by  side  for  an 
hour  talking  of  the  gloomy  past,  the  flitting  present,  the  uncer- 
tain future  Leaning  back  in  his  chair,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on 
the  grate,  Russell  said,  gravely  : 

"  There  is  now  nothing  to  impede  my  successful  career  ;  ob- 
stacles are  rapidly  meltmg  away  ;  every  day  brings  me  nearer 
the  goal  I  long  since  set  before  me.  In  two  years  at  farthest, 
P-'rhaps  earlier,  I  shall  return  and  begin  the  practice  of  law. 
Once  admitted,  I  ask  no  more.  Then,  and  not  till  then,  I  hope 
to  save  you  from  the  necessity  of  labor  ;  in  the  interim,  ]Mr. 
CUfton  will  prove  a  noble  and  generous  friend  ;  and  believe  me, 
my  cousin,  the  thought  of  leaving  you  so  long  is  the  only  thing 
which  will  mar  the  pleasure  of  my  European  sojourn." 

The  words  were  kind  enough,  but  the  tone  was  indifferent, 
and  the  countenance  showed  her  that  their  approaching  separa- 
tion disquieted  him  little.  She  thought  of  the  sleepless  nights 
and  wretched  days  she  had  passed  waiting  for  a  letter  from  that 
tall,  reserved,  cold  cousin,  and  her  features  relaxed  in  a  derisive 
smile  at  the  folly  of  her  all-absorbing  love.  Raising  his  eyes  ac- 
cidentally, he  caught  the  smile,  wondered  what  there  was  to  call 
it  forth  in  the  plans  which  he  had  just  laid  before  her,  and, 
meeting  his  glance  of  surprise,  she  said,  carelessly  : 

"  Are  you  not  going  to  see  Irene  before  you  sail  ?" 

His  cheek  flushed  as  he  rose,  straightened  himself,  and  an- 
swered : 

*'  A  strange  question,  truly,  from  one  who  knows  me  as  well 
as  you  do.  Call  to  see  a  girl  whose  father  sent  her  from  home 
solely  to  prevent  her  from  associating  with  my  family  I  Through 
what  sort  of  metamorphosis  do  you  suppose  that  I  have  passed, 
that  every  spark  of  self-respect  has  been  crushed  out  of  me  ?" 


138  MAC  ARIA  ;   OR, 

"  Her  father's  tyranny  and  selfishness  can  never  nullify  her 
noble  aud  affectionate  remembrance  of  Aunt  Amy,  in  the  hour 
of  her  need." 

"  Aud  when  I  am  able  to  repay  her  every  cent  we  owe  her, 
then,  and  not  till  then,  I  wish  to  see  her.  Things  shall  change  ; 
mens  cujusque  is  est  quisque;  and  the  day  will  come  when  Mr. 
Huntingdon  may  not  thhik  it  degrading  for  his  daughter  to  ac- 
knowledge my  acquaintance  on  the  street." 

A  brief  silence  ensued,  Russell  drew  on  his  gloves,  aud  finally 
said,  hesitatingly  : 

"  Dr.  Arnold  told  me  she  had  suffered  very  much  from  a 
fall." 

"  Yes  ;  for  a  long  time  she  was  confined  to  her  room," 

"  Has  she  recovered  entirely  ?" 

"  Entirely.     She  grows  more  beautiful  day  by  day." 

Perhaps  he  wished  to  hear  more  concerning  her,  but  she 
would  not  gratify  him,  and,  soon  after,  he  took  up  his  hat. 

"  Mr.  Clifton  has  a  spare  room,  Russell  ;  why  can't  you  stay 
with  us  wliile  yon  are  in  Xew  York  ?" 

*'  Thank  you  ;  but  Mr,  Campbell  will  expect  me  at  the  hotel  ; 
I  shall  be  needed,  too,  as  he  has  many  letters  to  write.  I  will 
see  you  to-morrow,  and  indeed  every  day  while  I  remain  in  the 
city." 

"  Then  pay  your  visits  in  the  morning,  for  I  want  to  take 
jour  portrait  with  my  own  hands.  Give  me  a  sitting  as  early 
as  possible." 

"  Yery  well  ;  look  for  me  to-morrow.     Good-night." 

The  week  that  followed  was  one  of  strangely-mingled  sorrows 
aud  joys  ;  in  after  years  it  served  as  a  prominent  land-mark  to 
which  she  looked  back  and  dated  sad  changes  in  her  heart. 
Irene  remained  ignorant  of  Russell's  presence  in  the  city,  and  at 
last  the  day  dawned  on  which  the  vessel  was  to  sail.  At  the 
breakfast  table  Mr.  Clifton  noticed  the  colorlessness  of  his  pupil's 
face,  but  kindly  abstained  from  any  allusion  to  it.  He  saw  that, 
contrary  to  habit,  she  drank  a  cup .  of  coffee,  and,  arresting  her 
arm  as  she  requested  his  mother  to  give  her  a  second,  he  said, 
gently — 


ALTARS   OF    SACRIFICE.  139 

"  My  dear  child,  whore  did  you  suddenly  find  such  Turkish 
tastes  ?     I  thoug-ht  you  disliked  cotree  ?" 

"  I  take  it  now  as  medicine.     My  head  aches  horribly." 

"  Then  let  me  prescribe  for  you.  We  will  go  down  to  tlic 
steamer  with  Kussell,  and  afterward  take  a  long  ride  to  Green- 
wood, if  you  like." 

"  lie  said  be  would  call  here  at  teu  o'clock  to  bid  us 
farewell." 

"  NHmjporte.  The  carriage  will  be  ready,  and  we  will  accom- 
pany him." 

At  the  appointed  hour  they  repaired  to  the  vessel,  and,  look- 
ing at  its  huge  sides,  Electra  coveted  even  a  deck  passage  ; 
envied  the  meanest  who  hurried  about,  making  all  things  ready 
for  departure.  The  last  bell  rang  ;  people  crowded  down  on  th« 
planks  ;  Russell  hastened  back  to  the  carriage,  and  took  the 
nerveless,  gloved  hand. 

"  I  will  write  as  early  as  possible  ;  don't  be  uneasy  about  me  ; 
no  accident  has  ever  happened  on  this  line.  I  am  glad  I  leave 
you  with  such  a  friend  as  Mr.  Clifton.  Good-by,  cousin  ;  it 
will  not  be  very  long  before  we  meet  again." 

He  kissed  the  passive  lips,  shook  hands  with  the  artist,  and 
sprang  on  board  just  as  the  planks  were  withdrawn.  The  vessel 
moved  majestically  on  its  way  ;  friends  on  shore  waved  handker- 
chiefs to  friends  departing,  and  hands  w^re  kissed  and  hats  lifted, 
and  then  the  crowd  slowly  dispersed — for  steamers  sail  every 
week,  and  people  become  accustomed  to  the  spectacle.  But  to- 
day it  was  freighted  with  the  last  fond  hope  of  a  deep  and  pas- 
sionate nature  ;  and  as  Electra  gazed  on  the  line  of  foam  white- 
ning the  didl  surface  of  the  water,  the  short-lived  billows  and 
deep  hollows  between  seemed  newly-made  graves,  whose  hungry 
jaws  had  closed  for  ever  over  the  one  bright  lingering  hope  which 
she  had  hugged  to  her  heart. 

"  Are  you  ready  to  go  now  ?"  asked  Mr.  Clifton. 

"  Yes,  ready,  quite  ready — for  Greenwood." 

She  spoke  in  a  tone  which  had  lost  its  liquid  music,  and  with 
a  wintry  smile  that  fled  over  the  ashy  face,  lending  the  features 
r.o  light,  no  warmth. 


140  MACAEIA  ;   OR, 

He  tried  to  dirert  her  mind  by  calling  attention  to  various 
things  of  interest,  but  the  utter  exhaustion  of  her  position  and 
tlie  monosyllabic  character  of  her  replies  soon  discouraged  him. 
Both  felt,relieved  when  the  carriage  stopped  before  the  studio, 
and  as  he  led  her  up  the  steps  he  said,  affectionately  : 

"  I  am  afraid  my  prescription  has  not  cured  your  head." 

"  No,  sir  ;  but  I  thank  you  most  sincerely  for  the  kind  effort 
vju  have  made  to  relieve  me.  I  shall  be  better  to-morrow. 
Good-by,  till  then." 

*'  Stay,  my  child.  Come  into  the  studio,  and  let  me  read 
something  light  and  pleasant  to  you." 

"  Not  for  the  universe  !  The  sight  of  a  book  would  give  me 
brain  fever,  I  verily  believe." 

She  tried  unavailingly  to  shake  off  his  hand. 

"  Why  do  you  shrink  from  me,  my  pupil  ?" 

"Because  I  am  sick,  weary  ;  and  you  watch  me  so  that  I 
get  restless  and  nervous.     Do  let  me  go  !     I  want  to  sleep." 

An  impatient  stamp  emphasized  the  words,  and,  as  he  reiaxed 
his  clasp  of  her  fingers,  she  hastened  to  her  room,  and  locked  the 
door  to  prevent  all  intrusion.  Taking  off  her  bonnet,  she  drew 
the  heavy  shawl  closely  around  her  shoulders  and  threw  herself 
across  the  foot  of  the  bed,  burying  her  face  in  her  hands  lest  the 
bare  walls  should  prove  witnesses  of  her  agony.  Six  hours  later 
she  lay  there  still,  with  pale  fingers  pressed  to  burning,  dry  eye- 
lids. 

Oh,  bigotry  of  human  nature  I  By  what  high  commission,  by 
what  royal  patent,  do  men  and  women  essay  to  judge  of  fellow- 
men  and  sister-women  by  one  stern,  inexorable  standard,  unyield- 
ing as  the  measure  of  Damastes  ?  The  variety  of  emotional  and 
intellectual  types  is  even  greater  than  the  physical,  and,  as  the 
ages  roll,  we  need  other  criteria.  Who  shall  dare  lay  finger  on 
fellow-creature  and  audaciously  proclaim  :  ''  I  have  gone  dowu 
among  the  volcanic  chambers  of  this  soul  and  groped  in  its  ady- 
tum, amid  the  dust  and  ruins  of  its  overturned  altars  and  crum- 
bling idols  ;  have  fathomed  its  mysteries,  and  will  tell  you,  by 
infalUble  plummet,  the  depths  thereof."  There  are  sealed  cells, 
where,  veiled  from  scrutiny  and  sacred  as  Eleusinia,  burns  the 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  141 

God-given  shecljinali  of  the  luiinau  soul.  As  the  myriad  shells 
that  tessellate  old  ocean's  pavements,  as  the  vast  army  of  innu- 
merable clouds  which  ceaselessly  shift  their  coloring  and  their 
forms  at  the  presto  of  wizard  winds  ;  as  the  leaves  of  the  forest 
that  bud  and  wane  in  the  flush  of  summer  or  the  howl  of  wintry 
storms,  so  we  differ  one  from  another.  Linnaeus  and  Jussien, 
with  microscopic  aid,  have  classified  and  christened  ;  but  now 
and  then  new  varieties  startle  modern  savana,  and  so  likewise 
new  types  stalk  among  men  and  women,  whose  elements  will 
neither  be  lopped  off  nor  elongated  to  meet  the  established  mea- 
sure. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Once  more  the  labors  of  a  twelve-month  had  been  exhibited 
at  the  Academy  of  Design — some  to  be  classed  among  things 
"  that  were  not  born  to  die  ;"  others  to  fall  into  nameless  graves. 
Manv,  who  had  worked  faithfullv,  recognizins;  the  sacredness  of 
their  commission,  had  climbed  higher  in  public  estimation  ;  and 
a  few,  making  mere  pastime,  or  resting  upon  a  reputation  already 
earned,  had  slipped  back.  Mr.  Clifton  was  represented  by  an 
exquisite  (Enone,  and  on  the  same  wall,  in  a  massive  oval  frame, 
hung  the  first  finished  production  of  his  pupil.  For  months  after 
RusselFs  departure  she  sat  before  her  easel,  slowly  filling  up  the 
outline  sketched  w4iile  his  eyes  watched  her.  She  lingered  over 
her  work,  loath  to  put  the  final  stroke,  calling  continually  upon 
Memory  to  furnish  the  necessary  details  ;  and  frequently,  in  re- 
caUing  transient  smiles,  the  curl  of  his  lip,  or  bending  of  his  brow, 
palette  and  brush  would  slip  from  her  fingers,  while  she  sat  weav- 
ing the  broken  yet  priceless  threads  of  a  hallowed  Past.  Appli- 
cation sometimes  trenches  so  closely  upon  genius  as  to  be  mista- 
ken for  it  in  its  results,  and,  where  both  are  happily  blended,  the 
bud  of  Art  expands  in  immortal  perfection.  Electra  spared  no 
toil,  and  so  it  came  to  pass  that  the  faultless  head  of  her  idol  ex- 
cited intense  and  universal  admiration.     In  the  catalogue  it  was 


142  MAC^VEIA  ;   OR, 

briefly  mentioned  as  "  Xo.  IT — a  portrait ;  first  efTort  of  a  young 
female  artist."  Connoisseurs,  who  had  committed  themselves 
by  extravagant  praise,  sneered  at  the  announcement  of  the  cata- 
logue, and,  after  a  few  inquiries,  blandly  asserted  that  no  tyro 
could  have  i^roduced  it  ;  that  the  master  had  wrought  out  its 
perfection,  and  generously  allowed  the  pupil  to  monopolize  the 
encomiums.  In  vain  Mr.  Clifton  disclaimed  the  merit,  and  as- 
serted that  he  had  never  touched  the  canvas  ;  that  she  had  jeal- 
ously refused  to  let  him  aid  her.  Incredulous  smiles  and  unmis- 
takable motions  of  the  head  were  the  sole  results  of  his  expostu- 
lation. Little  mercy  has  a  critical  world  for  novices,  particular- 
ly those  clad  in  woman's  garments  ;  few  helping  hands  are  kind- 
ly stretched  toward  her  trembling  fingers,  few  strengthening 
words  find  her  in  her  seclusion  ;  and  when  these  last  do  come  in 
friendly  whispers,  are  they  not  hung  up  "  as  apples  of  gold  in 
pictures  of  silver  "  along  the  chequered  walls  of  memory  ?  Cold 
glances  generally  greet  her  earliest  works  ;  they  are  handled  sus- 
piciously, the  beauties  are  all  extracted,  set  in  a  row,  and  label- 
led "plagiarisms  ;"  the  residue,  like  dross  in  crucibles,  is  handed 
back  as  "  original,  and  her  undoubted  property."  Or,  perchance, 
the  phraseology  varies,  and  she  hears  "  This  book,  this  statue, 
this  picture,  is  no  unpracticed  woman's  work  ;  we  speak  advised- 
ly and  pronounce  the  fact,  that  pen,  or  rasp,  or  chisel,  or  brush, 
belongs  unmistakably  to  a  master — an  experienced  writer  or  vet- 
eran artist."  It  is  this  bent  of  human  nature  to  load  with  chai> 
lets  well-estabHshed  favorites  of  fame,  to  "  whitewash"  continual- 
ly \with  praise,  to  jealously  withhold  the  meed  of  beginners,  ren- 
dering grudgingly  "  Ccesar's  things  to  Caesar,"  which  tips  many 
a  pen  with  gall,  and  shadows  noble  pictures  with  unseemly  clouds. 
Electra  was  indignant  at  the  injustice  meted  out  to  her,  and,  as 
might  have  been  expected,  rebelled  against  the  verdict.  Very 
little  consolation  was  derived  from  the  argument  by  which  her 
master  strove  to  mollify  her — that  the  incredulity  of  the  critics 
was  the  highest  eulogy  that  could  have  been  pronounced  upon 
her  work.  Some  weeks  after  the  close  of  the  exhibition,  the 
(Enone  was  purchased  and  the  portrait  sent  home.  Electra 
placed  it  on  the  easel  once  more,  and  stood  before  it  in  rapt  con- 


ALTAES   OF   SACRIFICE.  14 


Q 


teniplation.  Down  from  the  arched  roof  flowed  billows  of  lii^lit, 
bathing  her  rounded  form  as  in  a  sea  of  molten  topaz,  and  kin- 
dling a  startling,  almost  unearthly,  beauty  in  the  canvas.  What 
mattered  the  brevity  and  paucity  of  Russell's  letters  now  ? — 
what  though  three  thousand  miles  of  tempestuous  sea  roared  and 
tossed  between  them  ? — she  had  his  untarnished  ima^-e  in  her 
lieart,  his  life-like  features  ever  before  her.  To  this  shrine  she 
came  continually,  and  laid  thereon  the  oiferhig  of  a  love  passion- 
ate and  worshiping  as  ever  took  entire  possession  of  a  woman's 
heart.  Coldness,  silence,  neglect,  all  were  forgotten  when  she 
looked  into  the  deep,  beautiful  eyes,  and  upon  the  broad,  bold, 
matchless  brow. 

*'....      Love  is  not  love 

"\Miich  alters,  when  it  alteration  finds, 

Or  bends  with  the  remover  to  remove ; 

Oh,  no  J  it  is  an  ever  fixed  mark, 

That  looks  on  tempests  and  is  never  shaken.'' 

She  had  not  the  faintest  hope  that  he  would  ever  cherish  a 
tenderer  feeling  for  her  ;  but  love  is  a  plant  of  strange  growth  ; 
now  lifting  its  head  feebly  in  rich,  sunny  spots,  where  every  fos- 
tering influence  is  employed  ;  and  now  springing  vigorous  from 
barren,  rocky  clifl"s,  clinging  in  icy  crevises,  defying  every  adverse 
element,  sending  its  fibrous  roots  deeper  and  deeper  in  unconge- 
nial soil ;  bending  before  the  fierce  breath  of  storms,  only  to 
erect  itself  more  firmly  ;  spreading  its  delicate  petals  over  the 
edges  of  eternal  snow,  self-sustaining,  invincible,  immortal.  A 
curious  plant,  truly,  and  one  which  will  not  bear  transplanting, 
as  many  a  luckless  experiment  has  proved.  To-day,  as  Electra 
looked  upon  her  labors,  the  coils  of  Time  seemed  to  fall  away  ; 
the  vista  of  Eternity  opened  before  her,  peopled  with  two  forms, 
which  on  earth  walked  widely  separate  paths,  and  over  her  fea- 
tures stole  a  serene,  lifted  expression,  as  if,  after  painful  scaling, 
she  had  risen  above  the  cloud-region  and  caught  the  first  rays  of 
perpetual  sunshine. 

Time,  like  a  weaver,  made  strange,  dim,  confused  masses  of 
woof  and  warp  ;  but  in  Eternity  the  earth-work  would  l)e  turn- 
ed, and  delicate  tracery  and  marvellous  coloring,  divine  bjbelins, 


144:  MACARIA  ;    OR, 

would  come  to  light.  Patience  !  Away  from  the  loom — let  the 
shuttle  fly  I  "  V/hat  I  do  thou  knowest  not  now,  but  thou 
shalt  know  hereafter."  Hence  to  the  barren  fields,  and  till 
them  until  the  harvest. 

Mr.  Clifton  had  watched  her  for  some  moments,  with  lower- 
ing brow  and  jealous  hatred  of  the  picture.  Approaching,  he 
looked  over  her  shoulder,  and  asked  : 

"  How  much  longer  do  you  intend  to  stand  here  ?  Pygma- 
lion was  not  more  captivated  by  his  ivory  image  than  you  are  by 
your  head.  Were  it  Antinous  or  Apollo,  I  doubt  whether  your 
admiration  would  be  enhanced." 

"  It  is  more  than  Antinous  and  Apollo,"  she  answered,  draw- 
ing the  folds  of  silk  over  the  portrait  and  turning  toward  him. 

"  Child,  you  are  an  idolatress." 

"  Perhaps  so  ;  but,  at  least,  I  am  in  a  goodly  company.  Many 
bow  down  before  the  shrine  of  their  own  handiwork  ;  some 
bring  libations  to  Mammon,  some  to  Fame,  some  to  Ambition, 
some  to  Love.  Nature  intended  us  to  kneel,  which  is  preferable 
to  standing,  statue-like,  exacting  obeisance  from  others.  Which 
is  nobler  ?  But  how  am  I  an  idolatress  ?  Shall  I  not  prize  the 
features  of  my  cousin,  my  earliest  friend  and  playmate  ?  Would 
you  have  me  tear  off  and  cast  away  the  kindly  emotions,  the 
warm  affections  wherewith  God  clothed  me,  as  badges  of  hu- 
manity ?" 

"By  no  means.  But  would  you  have  a  second  Ixion's 
wheel  ?" 

"  Aye,  sir,  when  I  am  weak  enough  to  worship  a  cloud.  Mr. 
Clifton,  I  believe  I  have  shaken  hands  with  my  rosy-cheeked, 
sunny-eyed,  siren  charmed  childhood  ;  and,  to-day,  standing  here 
a  woman,  with  few  ties  to  bind  me  to  my  fellow-creatures,  I  hold 
this  one  jewelled  link  of  the  past  in  the  hollow  of  my  hand,  and 
pet  it.  Why  not  ?  Oh,  why  not  ?  I  am  but  seventeen  ;  this 
is  all  that  I  have  left  to  caress,  and  soon  the  waves  of  coming 
years  will  wash  this,  too,  through  my  fingers.  Would  you,  less 
merciful  than  Time,  snatch  it  from  me  prematurely  ?" 

"  I  would,  that  in  exchange  I  might  heap  your  hands  with  un- 
told treasure  and  jo  v." 


ALTAKS    OF    SACRIFIUE.  14:5 

"  I  think  I  am  less  grasping,  tlien,  than  you.  Leave  me  the 
little  I  value  ;  I  ask  uo  more,  wish  no  more,  will  have  no  more." 

She  woukl  have  left  him,  but  his  hand  fell  heavily  on  hers. 

"  Electra,  I  mui^t  speak  to  you  ;  hear  me.  You  hug  a  phan- 
tom to  your  heart  ;  Russell  does  not  and  will  not  love  you,  other 
than  as  his  oousin." 

The  blood  deserted  her  face,  leaving  a  grayish  pallor,  but  the 
eyes  sought  his  steadily,  and  the  rippling  voice  lost  none  of  its 
rich  cadence. 

"  Except  as  his  cousin,  I  do  not  expect  Russell  to  love  me." 

"  Oh,  child  !  you  deceive  yourself  ;  this  is  a  hope  that  you 
cling  to  with  mad  tenacity." 

She  wrung  her  hand  from  his,  and  drew  her  figure  to  its  ut- 
most height. 

"  You  transcend  your  privilege,  sir  !  when  you  attempt  to  ca- 
techise me  thus.  I  deny  the  right  of  any  one  on  earth  to  put 
such  questions  to  me — to  make  such  assertions." 

"  Electra,  I  did  not  mean  to  offend  you,  but  the  time  has  come 
when  we  must  understand  each  other " 

"  You  did  not  mean  to  offend  me— well,  let  that  pass  ;  an- 
other day  we  will  discuss  it,  if  you  please,"  she  interrupted,  wav- 
ing him  off  and  turning  toward  the  door. 

"Xo  ;  you  must  hear  me  now.  I  have  a  right  to  question 
you— the  right  of  my  long,  silent,  faithful  love.  You  may  deny 
it,  but  that  matters  little  ;  be  still,  and  listen.  Did  you  suppose 
that  I  was  simply  a  generous  man,  when  I  offered  to  guard  and 
aid  you— when  I  took  you  to  my  house,  placed  you  in  my  mo- 
ther's care,  and  lavished  affection  upon  you  ?  Did  you  dream 
that  I  was  disinterested  in  what  I  have  done  to  encourage  and 
assist  you?  Did  you  imagine  I  was  merely  an  amiable  philan- 
tliropist,  anxious  to  help  all  in  difficulty  and  sorrow  ?  If  so,  put 
away  the  hallucination.  Consider  me  uo  longer  your  friend  • 
look  at  me  as  I  am,  a  jealous  and  selfishly  exacting  man,  who 
stands  before  you  to-day  and  tells  you  he  loves  you.  Oh,  Elec- 
tra !  From  the  morning  when  you  first  showed  me  your  sketches, 
you  have  been  more  than  my  life  to  me.  An  unconquerable  love 
sprang  up  then,  and  it  has  grown   with   the  months  and  years, 

7 


146  MACARIA  ;   OH, 

taking  sole  possession  of  a  heart  which  never  bowed  before  any 
other  woman.  Every  hope  I  have  centred  in  yon.  I  have  not 
deceived  myself ;  I  knew  that  you  loved  Russell.  Xay,  don't 
deny  it  ;  I  have  watched  yon  too  long  not  to  probe  your  mask. 
I  knew  that  he  had  your  girlish  love,  but  I  waited,  and  hoped 
my  devotion  would  win  you.  You  were  but  a  child,  and  I 
thought  the  depth  and  fervor  of  my  affection  would  out-weigh  a 
childish  fancy.  When  he  came  here,  I  saw  that  the  old  fascina- 
tion still  kept  its  hold  upon  you,  but  I  saw,  too,  what  you  saw 
quite  as  plainly — that  in  Russell  Aubrey's  heart  there  is  room 
for  nothing  but  ambition.  I  knew  how  you  suffered,  and  I  be- 
lieved it  was  the  death-struggle  of  your  love.  But,  instead,  I 
find  you,  day  by  day,  before  that  easel — oblivious  of  me,  of 
everything  but  the  features  you  cling  to  so  insanely.  Do  you 
wonder  that  I  hate  that  portrait  ?  Do  you  wonder  that  I  am 
growing  desperate  ?  Where  is  your  womanly  pride,  that  you 
lavish  your  love  on  one  totally  indifferent  to  you  ?  Strange 
paradox  that  you  are  ! — proud,  passionate,  exacting,  and  yet 
clinging  madly  to  a  memory.  Have  you  no  mercy,  that  you 
doom  me  to  live  for  ever  on  the  rack  ?  Shall  yonder  piece  of 
canvas  always  stand  between  your  heart  and  mine  ?  If  beloved 
you  in  return,  I  could  bear  it  better  ;  but  as  it  is,  I  am  tortured 
beyond  all  endurance.  I  have  spent  nearly  three  years  in  trying 
to  gain  your  heart ;  all  other  aims  have  faded  before  this  one 
absorbing  love.  To-day  I  lay  it  at  your  feet,  and  ask  if  I  have 
not  earned  some  reward.  Oh,  Electra  !  have  you  no  grati- 
tude ?" 

A  scarlet  spot  burned  on  his  pale  cheeks,  and  the  mild  liquid 
gray  eyes  sparkled  hke  stars. 

It  was  no  startling  revelation  to  her  ;  long  before  she  had  seen 
that  this  hour  of  trial  must  come  to  both,  and  now,  despite  her 
resolution,  his  words  unnerved  her.  She  dared  not  look  at  him  . 
the  hollow  voice  told  her  too  well  what  effect  this  excitement 
was  working  on  his  feeble  frame. 

*'  Oh,  Mr.  Clifton  !  I  am  grateful  ;  God,  who  sees  my  heart, 
knows  that  I  am.  No  child  ever  loved  a  parent  better  than  I 
love  you," 


ALTAIIS    OF    SACRTFICK.  147 

"It  is  not  filijil  afiVc'tion  that  I  ask  of  yon,  now.  I  beg  you 
to  lay  your  dear  haud^  in  mine,  and  promise  to  be  my  wife.  I 
ask  this  of  you  in  the  name  of  my  devotion.  You  gave  yourself 
to  me  years  ago,  and  to-day  I  beseech  you  to  seal  the  compact 
by  a  final  promise.  Electra,  beware  how  you  answer  1  Bridge 
the  gulf  between  us.     Give  rac  your  hand." 

He  vStrctched  out  his  hand,  but  she  drew  back  a  step. 

"  God  forgive  me  I  but  I  have  no  such  love  for  you." 

A  ghastly  smile  broke  over  his  face,  and,  after  a  moment,  the 
snowy  handkerchief  he  passed  across  his  lips  was  stained  with 
ruby  streaks. 

"I  know  that,  and  I  know  the  reason.  But,  once  more,  I 
ask  you  to  give  me  your  hand.  Electra,  dearest,  do  not,  I  pray 
you,  refuse  me  this.  Oh,  child  !  give  me  your  hand,  and  in  time 
you  will  learn  to  love  me." 

He  seized  her  fingers,  and  stooped  his  head  till  the  silky  brown 
beard  mingled  with  her  raven  locks. 

"  Mr.  Clifton,  to  marry  without  love  would  be  a  grievous  sin  ; 
I  dare  not.  We  would  hate  each  other.  Life  would  be  a  curse 
to  both,  and  death  a  welcome  release.  Could  you  endure  a  wife 
who  accepted  your  hand  from  gratitude  and  pity  ?  Oh  I  such 
a  relationship  would  be  horrible  beyond  all  degree.  I  shudder 
at  the  thought.'' 

"  But  you  would  learn  to  love  me." 

The  summer  wind  shook  the  window-curtains  and  rustled  the 
folds  of  black  silk  till  the  drapery  slid  from  the  portrait  and  left 
it  fully  exposed  to  view.  She  gave  one  quick  glance  at  the  be- 
loved countenance,  and,  falling  on  her  knees  before  the  easel, 
raised  her  clasped  hands  passionately,  and  exclaim<^d  : 

"  Impossible  !  impossible  !  You  have  said  that  be  is  my  idol, 
and  you  make  no  mistake.  He  fills  my  heart  so  entirely,  that  I 
have  nothing  but  reverence  and  gratitude  to  offer  you.  I  am 
young,  I  know,  and  you  think  that  this  is  a  girlish  fancy,  which 
will  fade  with  coming  years.  I  tell  you,  sir,  this  love  has  be- 
come part  of  me.  Wlien  he  went  to  Europe  I  said,  '  I  will  tear 
it  out  of  my  heart,  and  forget  him  ;  I  will  give  every  thought  to 
my  noble  art.'    Faithfully  I  strove  to  do  so  ;  but  a  Uttle  moun- 


148  macaria;  oe, 

tc'iiii  stream,  once  merged  in  the  pathless  ocean,  might  as  well 
struggle  to  gather  back  its  thiy  wavelets  and  return  to  its  peb- 
^  bly.  cliannel.  I  am  proud  ;  it  humiliates  me  to  acknowledge  all 
this  ;  and  notliing  on  earth  could  wring  it  from  me  but  my  de- 
sire to  convince  you  that  it  is  utterly  impossible  I  can  ever  love 
you,  as  you  ask. 

"  I  lift  my  heavy  heart  up  solemnly. 
As  once  Electra  her  sepulchral  urn, 
And,  looking  in  thine  eyes,  I  overturn 
The  ashes  at  thy  feet.     Behold  and  see 
"What  a  great  heap  of  grief  lay  hid  in  me, 
And  how  the  red  wild  sparkles  dimly  burn 
Through  the  ashen  grayness.     If  thy  foot  in  scorn 
Could  tread  them  out  in  darkness  utterly. 
It  might  be  well,  perhaps.'' 

*'  But  you  can  not  take  Russell's  place.  None  can  como 
between  him  and  my  heart." 

The  yellow  light  dripped  down  on  her  purplish  hair,  crystal- 
izing  into  a  nimbus,  as  she  knelt  before  the  portrait,  lifting  her 
bands,  like  saints  in  medieval  pictures,  fleeing  from  martyrdom. 
Shame  dyed  her  cheeks,  but  a  desperate,  reckless  triumph  flash- 
ed in  the  upraised  e\'es,  revealing  fully  the  aversion  which  his 
suit  had  inspired.  Unfortunate,  deplorable  as  was  her  love  for 
a  cousin,  it  seemed  for  the  moment  to  glorify  her,  and  Mr. 
Clifton  put  his  hand  over  his  eyes  to  shut  out  the  vision. 

"  Electra  Grey,  you  are  unwomanly  in  your  unsought  love." 

"  Unwomanly !  If  so,  made  such  by  your  unmanliness. 
Unwomanly  !  I  deny  it.  Which  is  most  unwojnanly — to  yield 
to  the  merciless  importunity  of  one  to  whom  I  am  indebted ; 
to  give  my  hand  to  one  whose  touch  chills  the  blood  in  my 
veins ;  to  promise  to  become  his  wife,  when  the  bare  thought 
sickens  my  soul;  to  dare  to  stand  before  God's  altar  and  take 
false  vows  on  my  lips,  or  tell  the  tiuth  ?  to  shield  myself  from 
his  entreaties,  under  the  holy  mantle  of  a  deep,  undying  love 
for  another  ?  I  volunteered  no  confession ;  you  taxed  and 
taunted  me  with  my  affection.  Sir,  it  should  have  made  me 
sacred  in  your  eyes.  Unwomanly  !  Were  you  moie  manly,  I 
had  never  shocked  your  maudlin  sentiments  of  propriety." 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  149 

"  And  tliis;  is  my  leward  for  nil  the  tendnrncss  Iliave  lavished 
on  yon.  When  I  stooped  to  beg  your  hand,  to  be  repnl!«ed 
with  scorn  and  loathing.  To  spend  three  years  in  faithful  effort 
to  win  your  heart,  and  reap contempt,  hatred." 

Stairijering  back,  he  sank  into  his  arm-chair  and  closed  his 
eyes  a  moment,  then  continued : 

"  K  it  were  possible  that  you  conld  be  happy,  I  would  not 
complain  ;  but  there  is  no  hope  of  that.  You  might  as  well 
kneel  to  my  marble  Hermes  yonder,  as  to  Russell.  Stranger 
infatuation  never  possessed  a  woman." 

"  I  am  not  blind  ;  I  neither  ask  or  expect  anything  from  him. 
Unless  you  betray  my  confidence  he  will  never  suspect  the  truth, 
and  I  would  sooner  endure  the  tortures  of  Torquemada  than  that 
he  should  know  it.  I^nt  by  what  process  will  you  demonstrate 
that,  since  a  r;ire  and  royal  banquet  is  forever  shut  beyond  my 
reach,  it  is  my  duty  to  sit  down  in  the  dust  and  try  to  content 
myself  with  lni>ks  ?  Sir,  my  God  never  intended  me  to  live  on 
crumbs,  and  I  will  not.  I  will  be  true  to  my  heart ;  if  the  vast 
host  of  my  fellow-creatures  should  pass  away  from  earth,  I  will 
stand  alone,  and  conquer  solitude  as  best  I  may.  Not  '  one  jot, 
not  one  tittle'  of  my  nature  will  I  yield  for  companionship.  No 
mess  of  pottage  will  I  have  in  lieu  of  my  birthright.  All,  or 
none  !  Marriage  is  holy  ;  God,  in  His  wisdom,  instituted  it 
with  the  seal  of  love ;  but  its  desecration  with  counterfeits 
makes  Tophets,  Golgothas,  instead  of  Edens.  I  know  what  I 
liave  to  expect ;  on  my  own  head  be  the  future.  If  quarrel 
there  be,  it  is  between  fate  and  me ;  you  have  no  concern  in  it." 

"  I  would  not  have  troubled  you  long,  Electra.  It  was  be- 
cause I  knew  that  my  life  must  be  short  at  best,  that  I  urged 
you  to  gild  the  brief  period  with  the  light  of  your  love.  I 
would  not  have  bound  you  always  to  me ;  and  when  I  asked 
your  hand  a  few  minutes  since,  I  knew  that  death  would  soon 
sever  the  tic  and  set  you  free.  Let  this  suffice  to  palliate  my 
'  unmanly'  pleading.  I  have  but  one  request  to  make  of  you 
now,  and,  weak  as  it  may  seem,  I  beg  of  you  not  to  deny  me. 
You  are  preparing  to  leave  my  house  ;  this  I  know  )  I  see  it  in 
your  face,  and  the  thought  is  harrowing  to  me.     E'ectra,  remain 


150  MACAEIA  ;   OR, 

under  my  roof  while  I  live ;  let  me  see  yon  every  day,  here,  iu 
my  house.     If  not  as  my  wife,  stay  as  my  friend,  my  pupil,  my 
child.     I  little  tliought  I  could  ever  condescend  to  ask  this  of  any   . 
one  ;   but  the  dread  of  separation  bows  me  down.      Oh,  child  ! 
I  will  not  claim  vou  long:." 

She  stood  up  before  him  with  the  portrait  in  her  arms, 
resolved  then  and  there,  to  leave  him  for  ever.  But  the  ghastly 
pallor  of  his  face,  the  scarlet  thread  oozing  over  his  lips  and 
saturating  the  handkerchief  with  which  he  strove  to  staunch  it, 
told  her  that  the  request  was  preferied  on  no  idle  pretext.  In 
swift  review,  his  kindness,  generosity,  and  unwavering  affection 
passed  before  her,  and  the  mingled  accents  of  remorse  and  com- 
passion whispered  :  "  Pay  your  debt  of  gratitude  by  sacrificing 
your  heart.  If  you  can  make  liiui  happy,  you  owe  it  to 
him." 

Without  a  word  she  passed  him  and  went  up  to  her  own  room. 
It  was  an  hour  of  sore  temptation  for  one  so  young  and  inex- 
perienced, but  placing  the  portrait  on  tlie  low  mantle,  she  crossed 
her  arms  before  it,  and  tried  to  lay  matters  m  the  scale.  On  one 
side,  years  of  devotion,  the  circumstances  of  the  artist's  life,  his 
mother's  infiruiity,  confining  her  sometimes  to  her  bed,  often  to 
her  room,  preventing  her  from  nursing  him  ;  the  weary  season 
of  his  tedious  illness,  the  last  hours  gloomy  and  miserable,  un- 
soothed  by  gentle  words  or  tender  offices.  On  the  other,  stern 
adherence,  unerring  obedience  to  the  dictates  of  her  heart,  the 
necessary  self-abnegation,  the  patient  attendance  at  the  couch 
of  prolonged  suffering,  and  entire  devotion  to  him.  For  a  time 
the  scales  balanced;  she  couM  not  conquer  her  repugnance  to 
remaining  in  his  home  ;  then  a  grave  and  its  monumental  stone 
were  added,  and,  with  a  groan,  she  dropped  her  face  in  her 
hands.  x\t  the  expiration  of  two  hours  she  locked  the  portrait 
from  view,  and  went  back  to  the  studio.  The  house  was  very 
quiet;  the  ticking  of  the  clock  was  distinctly  heard  as  she 
pushed  the  door  open  and  glided  in.  Involuntarily  she  drew  a 
long,  deep  breath,  for  it-was  like  leaving  freedom  at  the  thres- 
liold,  and  taking  upon  herself  giievous  bonds.  The  arm-chair 
was  vacant,  but  tlie  artist  lay  on  one  of  the  sofas,  with  his  face 


ALTARS   OF    SACRIFICE.  151 

towanl  the  wall,  and  on  a  small  table  beside  bim  stood  a 
crystal  bowl  of  cracked  ice,  a  stained  wine-glass,  and  a  vial 
coiitainintr  some  dark  purple  liqiu<l.  Approaching  softly,  she 
scanned  the  countenance,  and  tears  gathered  in  her  eyes  as  she 
saw  how  thin  and  hollow  were  the  now  flushed  cheeks ;  how 
the  lips  writhed  now  and  then,  as  if  striving  to  suppress  bitter 
words.  The  beautiful  brown  hair  was  all  tossed  back,  and  she. 
noticed  that  along  the  forehead  clustered  many  silver  threads. 
One  hand  was  thrust  within  his  vest,  the  other  thrown  up  over  the 
head,  grasping  a  fresh  handkerchief.  Softly  she  took  this  hand, 
and,  bending  over  him,  said  in  a  low,  thrilling  tone  : 

"  Mr.  Clifton,  I  was  passionate  and  hasty,  and  said  some  unkind 
things  which  I  would  fain  recall,  and  for  which  I  beg  your  par- 
don. I  thank  you  for  the  honor  you  would  have  conferred  on 
me,  and  for  the  unmerited  love  you  offered  me.  Unless  it  were 
in  my  power  to  return  that  love,  it  would  be  sinful  to  give  you 
my  hand  ;  but,  sinoe  you  desire  it  so  earnestly,  I  will  promise  to 
stay  by  your  side,  to  do  what  I  can  to  make  you  happy  ;  to  prove 
by  my  devotion  that  I  am  not  insensible  to  all  your  kindness,  that 
I  am  very  grateful  for  the  affection  you  have  given  me.  I  come 
and  offer  you  this,  as  a  poor  return  for  all  that  I  owe  you  ;  it  is 
the  most  my  conscience  will  permit  me  to  tender.  My  friend, 
my  master,  will  you  accept  it,  and  forgive  the  pain  and  sorrow  I 
have  caused  you  ?" 

He  felt  her  tears  falling  on  his  lingers,  and,  for  a  moment, 
neither  spoke  ;  then  he  drew  the  hands  to  his  lips  and  kissed 
them  tenderly, 

"  Thank  you,  Electra.  I  know  it  is  a  sacrifice  on  your  part, 
but  I  am  selfish  enough  to  accept  it.  Heaven  bless  you,  my 
pupil." 

'*  In  future  we  will  not  allude  to  this  day  of  trial— let  it  be 
forgotten  ;  *  let  the  dead  past  bury  its  dead.'  I  will  have  no 
resurrected  phantoms.  And  now,  sir,  you  must  not  allow  this 
slight  hemorrhage  t(^  depress  you.  In  a  few  days  you  will  be 
stronger,  quite  able  to  examine  and  find  fault  with  my  work. 
Shall  I  send  a  note  to  Dr.  LeRoy,  asking  him  to  call  and  see 
you  this  evening  ?" 


152  MACARIA  :    OPv, 

"  He  has  just  left  me.  Say  nothing  of  the  hemorrhage  to 
mother  ;  it  would  only  distress  her." 

He  released  her  hands,  and,  stooping  over  his  pillow,  she  smooth- 
ed the  disordered  hair,  and  for  the  first  time  pressed  her  lips  to 
his  forehead. 

Thus  she  bowed  her  neck  to  the  yoke,  and,  with  a  fixed,  un- 
alterable will,  entered  on  the  long  dreary  ministry  to  which  she 
felt  that  duty  called. 

We  shade  our  eyes,  and  peer  into  the  dim  unknown,  striving 
to  see  whither  we  are  tending,  and  a  sudden  turn  in  the  waj'-,  a 
sharp  angle,  brings  us  face  to  face  with  huge,  frowning  obsta- 
cles, that  grimly  bar  all  progress  in  the  direction  to  which  our 
inclinations  point.  Strange  devious  paths  stretched  out  at  our 
feet,  baffling  all  our  wise  conjectures,  setting  at  defiance  all  our 
plans  .and  prudential  machinations.  From  breath  to  breath, 
from  step  to  step,  from  hour  to  hour,  is  man's  sole  empire. 
"Boast  not  thvself  of  to-morrow." 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

"  Cities  give  not  the  human  senses  room  enough,"  says  a  lat- 
ter-day seer,  and  Electra  Grey  sometimes  felt  that  her  heart  and 
soul  were  in  the  stocks,  or  ironed  down  to  a  stake,  leaving  only 
a  perijjhery  of  a  few  feet.  Brick  walls  and  paving-stones  uttered 
no  kindly  message  ;  hurrying  foot-passengers  and  crowded  omni- 
buses told  of  the  din  and  strife  of  life,  but  whispered  no  word  of 
cheer,  no  lesson  of  uncomplaining  fortitude,  no  exhortation  to  be 
strong  and  patient.  She  saw  colossal  selfishness  crushing  rdong 
its  Juggernautic  way  ;  wealth  jostled  poverty  into  the  gutter,  and 
beauty  picked  a  dainty  crossing  ig  give  a  wide  berth  to  defor- 
mity ;  hard,  stern,  granite-like  faces  passed  her  window  day  by 
day  ;  princely  equipages,  with  haughty,  supercilious  occupants, 
rolled  along  the  street,  and  bridal  trains  and  funeral  proces- 
sions mingled  in  their  windings.     If  man  be,  indeed,  a  "  micro 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  153 

cosm,"  to  wliat  shall  I  liken  that  p:roat  city  wherein  dwelt  the 
painter  and  his  pupil  ?  Isis,  the  i^reat  nursing-mother — genial 
Nature,  teeming  with  soothing  influences,  and  missals  of  joy  and 
strength,  seemed  sepulchred — and  in  her  place  a  flint-featured, 
miserly,  and  most  intolerable  step-mother,  frowned  upon  the 
luckless  young  artist.  City  life  !  City  starvation,  rather  she 
found  it,  until  a  long  and  painful  apprenticeship  taught  her  the 
priceless  alchemy  whereby  smiling  Plenty  beamed  upon  her. 
Reared  on  the  outskirts  of  a  country  town,  she  longed  for  the 
freedom  and  solitude  of  the  oUl  pine-woods  at  home,  and  sickened 
at  the  thought  of  spending  her  life  within  the  walls  of  brick  and 
mortar.  She  had  selected  an  attic  room,  with  dormer  windows 
looking  eastward,  and  here  she  daily  watched  the  pale  gray 
dawn  struggle  with  the  vapors  and  shadows  of  night.  "  Quiet 
fields  of  crimson  cirri,"  fleecy  masses  of  restless,  glittering  cu- 
muli, or  the  sweep  and  rush  of  "  inky-fringed"  lowering  rain- 
clouds,  alike  charmed  her.  Long  before  the  servants  stirred  below 
she  was  seated  at  the  window,  noting  the  waning  shimmer  of 
the  Morning-Star  as  the  waves  of  light  rolled  up  and  crested  the 
horizon,  whitening  the  deep  blue  with  their  sparkling  spray. 
The  peculiarities  of  each  sunrise  and  sunset  were  jotted  dowu 
assiduously  : 

"  Cloud-walls  of  the  morning's  grey 
Faced  with  amber  column, 
Crowned  with  crimson  cupola 
From  a  sunset  solemn," 

were  stretched  with  great  care,  and  put  aside  for  future  use  ;  and 
it  rarely  happened  that,  on  a  dull,  rainy  morning,  she  came  down 
to  breakfast  looking  other  than  moody  and  disappointed,  as 
though  her  rights  had  been  infringed,  her  privileges  curtailed. 
Constituted  with  keen  susceptibility  to  impressions  of  beauty  or 
sublimity,  whether  physical,  moral,  or  intellectual,  Nature  intend- 
ed her  as  a  thing  for  sunshine  and  holidays,  as  a  darling  to  be 
j)etted  ;  but  Fate  shook  her  head,  and,  with  a  grimace,  set  the 
tender  young  soul  on  a  bleak  exposure,  to  be  hardened  and  in- 
vigorated. 

With  the  characteristic  fitfulness  of  consumption,  Mr.  Clifton 

1* 


154  MACARTA  ;    OR 


rallied,  and,  for  a  time,  seemed  almost  restored  ;  but  at  the  ap- 
pro,'ch  of  wiuter  the  cough  increased,  and  dangerous  symptoms 
returned.  Several  months  after  the  rejection  of  his  suit,  to 
wliicli  no  allusion  had  ever  been  made,  Electra  sat  before  her 
easel,  absorbed  in  work,  while  the  master  slowly  walked  up  and 
down  the  studio,  wrapped  in  a  warm  plaid  shawl.  Occasionally 
he  paused  and  looked  over  her  shoulder,  then  resumed  his  pace, 
offering  no  comment.  It  was  not  an  unusual  occurrence  for  them 
to  pass  entire  mornings  together  without  exchanging  a  word,  and 
to-day  the  silence  had  lasted  more  than  an  hour.  A  prolonged 
fit  of  coughing  finally  arrested  her  attention,  and,  glancmg  up, 
she  met  his  sad  gaze. 

"  This  is  unpropitious  weather  for  you,  Mr.  Clifton." 

"  Yes,  this  winter  offers  a  dreary  prospect." 

"  There  is  the  Doctor  now,  passing  the  window.  I  will  come 
back  as  soon  as  his  visit  is  over."  She  rose  hastily  to  quit  the 
room,  but  he  detained  her. 

**  Do  not  go— I  wish  you  to  remain,  and  finish  your  work." 

Dr.  Le  Roy  entered,  and,  after  questioning  bis  patient,  stood, 
on  the  rug,  warming  his  fingers. 

"  The  fact  is,  my  dear  fellow,  this  is  not  the  place  for  you.  I 
sent  you  south  four  years  ago  nearly,  and  saved  your  fife  ;  and, 
as  I  told  you  last  week,  you  will  have  to  take  that  same  pre- 
scription again.  It  is  folly  to  talk  of  spending  the  winter  here. 
I  can  do  nothing  for  you.  You  must  go  to  Cuba,  or  to  Italy. 
It  is  of  no  us^  to  try  to  deceive  you,  Harry  ;  you  know,  just  as 
well  as  I  do,  that  your  case  is  getting  desperate,  and  change  of 
climate  is  your  last  hope.     I  have  told  you  all  this  before." 

Electra  laid  down  her  pallette,  and  listened  for  the  answer. 

"  I  am  sorry  you  think  so,  but  I  can't  leave  New  York." 

"  Why  not  ?" 

"  For  various  good  reasons." 

"  My  dear  fellow,  is  your  life  of  any  value  ?" 

"  A  strange  question,  truly." 

"  If  it  is,  quit  Xew  York  in  thirty-six  hours  ;  if  not,  remain, 
*  for  various  good  reasons.'  Send  to*  my  ofiice  for  an  anodyne. 
Better  lake  mv  advice.     Good-da  v." 


ALTARS    OK    SACRIFICE.  155 

Passing:  by  the  easel,  he  whispere<l  : 

"  Use  your  influence  ;  scud  him  south."     And  then  the  two 
were  again  alone. 

Resting  her  cliin  in  her  hands  she  raised  .her  eyes,  and  said  : 

"Why  do  you  not  follow   the  Doctor's  advice?     A  winter 
south  might  restore  you." 

He  drew  uear,  and,  leaning  his  folded  arms  on  the  top  of  the 
easel,  looked  down  into  her  face. 

"  There  is  only  one  condition  upon  which  I  could  consent  to 
go  ;  that  is  in  your  hands.     Will  you  accompany  me  ?" 

She  understood  it  all  in  an  instant,  saw  the  new  form  in  which 
the  trial  presented  itself,  and  her  soul  sickened. 

"  Mr.  Clifton,  if  I  were  your  sister,  or  your  child,  I  would 
gladly  go  ;  but,  as  your  pupil,  I  can  not." 

"  As  Electra  Grey,  certainly  not  ;  but,  as  Electra  Clifton, 
you  could  go." 

"  Electra  Grey  will  be  carved  on  my  tombstone." 

"  Then  you  decide  my  fate.  I  remain,  and  wait  -the  slow  ap- 
proach of  death." 

*'  No,  before  just  Heaven  !  I  take  no  such  responsibility,  nor 
shall  you  thrust  it  on  me.  You  are  a  man,  and  must  decide 
your  destiny  for  yourself ;  I  am  a  poor  girl,  having  no  claim  upou, 
no  power  over  you.  It  is  your  duty  to  preserve  the  hfe  which 
God  gave  you,  in  the  way  prescribed  by  your  physician,  and  I 
have  no  voice  in  the  matter.  It  is  your  duty  to  go  south,  and 
it  will  be  both  weak  and  wicked  to  remain  here  under  existing 
circumstances." 

"  My  life  is  centred  in  you  ;  it  is  worthless,  nay,  a  burden, 
separated  from  you." 

"  Your  life  should  be  centred  in  something  nobler,  better  ;  in 
your  duty,  in  your  profession.  It  is  suicidal  to  fold  your  hands 
listlessly,  and  look  to  me,  as  you  do." 

"  All  these  things  have  I  tried,  and  I  am  weary  of  their  hol- 
lowness,  weary  of  life,  and  the  world.  So  long  as  I  have  your 
face  here,  I  care  not  to  cross  my  own  threshold  till  friendly  hands 
bear  me  out  to  my  quiet  resting-place  under  the  willows  of 
Greenwood.     Electra,  my  darling,  think  me  weak  if  you  will, 


156  MAC  ARIA  ;    OR, 

but  hear  witli  mo  a  little  while  longer,  and  then  this,  my  shadow, 
sl>«ll  flit  from  your  young  heart,  leaving  not  even  a  memory  to 
haunt  you.  Be  patient  \  I  will  soon  pass  away,  to  another,  a 
more  peaceful,  bles.sed  sphere." 

A  melancholy  smile  lighted  his  fair  waxen  features,  as  waning, 
sickly  sunshine  in  an  autumn  evening,  flickers  over  sculptured 
marble  in  a  silent  church-yard. 

How  she  compassioned  his  great  weakness,  as  he  wiped  away 
tlie  moisture  which,  even  on  that  cold  day,  glistened  on  his  fore- 
head. 

"  Oh  I  I  beseech  you  to  go  to  Cuba.  Go,  and  get  strong 
once  more." 

"  Nothing  will  ever  help  me  now.  Sunny  skies  and  soft 
breezes  bring  no  healing  for  me.  I  want  to  die  here,  in  my 
home,  where  your  hands  will  be  about  me  ;  not  among  strangers, 
in  Cuba  or  Italv." 

He  turned  to  the  fire,  and,  springing  up,  she  left  the  room. 
The  solemn  silence  of  the  house  oppressed  her  ;  she  put  on  her 
thickest  wrappings,  and  took  the  street  leading  to  the  nearest 
park.  A  steel-gray  sky,  with  slowly-trailing  clouds,  looked  down 
on  her,  and  the  keen,  chilly  wind  wafted  a  fine  snow-powder  in 
her  face  as  she  pressed  against  it.  The  trees  were  bare,  and  the 
sere  grass  grew  hoary  as  the  first  snow-flakes  of  the  season  came 
down  softly  and  shroud-like.  The  walks  were  deserted,  save 
where  a  hurrying  form  crossed  from  street  to  street,  homeward- 
bound  ;  and  Elect ra  passed  slowly  along,  absorbed  in  thoughts 
colder  than  the  frostiuo,-  that  irathered  on  shawl  and  bonnet.  The 
face  and  figure  of  the  painter  glided  spectrally  before  her  at 
every  step,  and  a  mighty  temptation  followed  at  its  heels.  Why 
not  strangle  her  heart  ?  Why  not  marry  him  and  bear  his 
name,  if,  thereby,  she  could  make  his  few  remaining  months  of 
existence  happy,  and,  by  accompanying  him  south,  prolong  his 
life  even  for  a  few  weeks  ?  She  shuddered  at  the  suggestion,  it 
would  be  such  a  miserable  lot.  But  then  the  question  arose  : 
"  Who  told  you  that  your  life  was  given  for  happiness  ?  Do  you 
imagine  your  Maker  set  you  on  earth  solely  to  hunt  your  own 
enjoyment  ?     Suppose  duty  costs  you  pain  and  struggles  ;  is  it 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  157 

any  tlie  loss  duty?  Nay,  is  it  not  all  the  more  urf^ont  duty?" 
Slie  knew  that  she  could  return  to  the  artist,  and,  with  one  brief 
Bentence,  pour  the  chrism  of  joy  over  his  suffering  soul  ;  aud  her 
great  compassion,  mild-eyed,  soft-lipped,  tender-hearted,  whisper- 
ed :  Why  not  ?  why  not  ? 

"  Nature  owns  no  man  who  is  not  a  martyr  withal."  If  this 
dictum  possessed  any  value,  did  it  not  point  to  her  mission  ?  She 
could  no  longer  shut  her  eyes  and  stumble  on,  for  right  in  her 
path  stood  an  awful  form,  with  austere  lip  and  fiery  eye,  demand- 
ing a  parley,  defying  all  escape  ;  and  calmly,  she  stood  face  to 
face  with  her  Sphinx,  considering  her  riddle.  A  young,  mother- 
less girl,  without  the  girding  of  a  holy  rehgion,  a  free,  untamed 
soul,  yielding  allegiance  to  no  creed,  hearkening  only  to  the  dic- 
tates of  her  tempestuous  nature,  now  confronting  the  most  an- 
cient immemorial  Destroyer  who  haunts  the  highways  of  society. 
Self-immolation,  or  a  poisoning  of  the  spring  of  joy  in  the  heart 
of  a  fellow-creature  ?  Was  duty  a  Moloch,  clasping  its  scorch- 
ing arms  around  its  devotees  ? — a  Juggernaut,  indeed,  whose  iron 
wheels  drank  the  life-blood  of  its  victims  ?  "  Will  you  see  your 
benefactor  sink  swiftly  into  an  early  grave,  and,  standing  by  with 
folded  arms,  persuade  yourself  that  it  is  not  your  duty  to  attempt 
to  save  him,  at  all  hazards  ?  Can  nothing  less  than  love  ever  sanc- 
tion marriage  ?"  Such  was  the  riddle  hurlecl  before  her,  and,  as 
she  pondered,  the  floodgates  of  her  sorrow  and  jealousy  were  once 
more  lifted — the  rush  and  roar  of  bitter  waters  drowned,  for  a 
time,  the  accents  of  conscience  and  of  reason. 

But  out  of  these  fierce  asphaltic  waves  arose.  Aphrodite-like, 
a  pure,  radiant,  heavenly  form — a  child  of  all  climes,  conditions, 
and  ages — an  immortal  evangel  ;  and,  as  the  piercing,  sunny 
eyes  of  womanly  intuition  looked  upon  the  riddle,  the  stony  linea- 
ments of  the  Sphinx  melted  into  air.  If  womanly  eyes  rest  on 
this  page  the  answer  need  not  be  traced  here,  for  in  every  true 
woman's  heart  the  answer  is  to  be  found  engraved  in  God's  own 
characters  ;  and,  however  the  rubbish  of  ignoble  motives  may 
accumulate,  it  can  never  obliterate  the  divine  handwriting.  In 
the  holiest  oratory  of  her  nature  is  enshrined  an  infallible  talis- 
man, an  a^gis,  and  she  requires  no  other  panoply  in  the  long 


158  MACARIA  ;    OR, 

struggle  incident  to  trials  such  as  shook  the  stormy  soul  of  the 
young  artist.  Faster  fell  the  snow-flakes,  cresting  tiie  waves  of 
her  hair  like  foam,  and,  setting  her  teeth  firmly,  as  if  thereby 
locking  the  door  against  all  compassionating  compunctions,  Elec- 
tra  left  the  park  and  turned  into  a  cross-street,  on  which  was  sit- 
uated an  establishment  where  bouquets  were  kept  for  sale.  The 
assortment  was  meagre  at  that  late  hour,  but  she  selected  a  tiny 
bunch  of  delicate,  fragrant,  hot-house  blossoms,  and,  shielding 
them  with  her  shawl,  hastened  home.  The  studio  was  brilliant 
with  gas-glare  and  warm  with  the  breath  of  anthracite,  but  an 
aspect  of  dreariness,  silence,  and  sorrow  predominated.  The  fig- 
ures in  the  pictures  shrank  back  in  their  frames,  the  statues  gleam- 
ed mournfully  white  and  cold,  and  the  emaciated  form  and  face 
of  the  painter,  thrown  into  bold  relief  by  the  dark  green  lining 
of  the  easy  chair,  seemed  to  belong  to  realms  of  death  ratlier 
than  life.  On  the  edge  of  the  low  scroll-sculptured  mantle,  sup- 
ported at  each  corner  by  caryatides,  perched  a  large  tame  gray 
owl,  with  clipped  wings  folded,  and  wide,  solemn,  oracular  eyes 
fastened  on  the  countenance  of  its  beloved  master.  A  bronze 
clock,  of  exqui-ite  workmanship,  occupied  the  centre,  and  repre- 
sented the  Angel  of  Revelations,  "  swearing  by  Hint  that  llveth 
for  ever  and  ever,  that  Time  should  be  no  longer.''^  One  hand 
held  the  open  book,  the  other  a  hammer,  which  gave  out  the 
hours  with  clear  metallic  ring  ;  and  along  the  base,  just  under- 
neath the  silver  dial-plate,  were  carved,  in  German  characters, 
the  words  of  Richter  :  "  And  an  immeasurably  extended  ham- 
mer was  to  strike  the  last  hour  of  Time,  and  shiver  the  universe 
asunder." 

With  swift,  noiseless  steps  Electra  came  to  the  red  grate,  and, 
after  a  moment,  drew  an  ottoman  close  to  the  easy  chair.  Per- 
haps its  occupant  slept  ;  perchance  he  wandered,  with  closed 
eyes,  far  down  among  the  sombre,  dank  crypts  of  memory.  She 
laid  her  cool  fingers  on  his  hand,  and  held  the  bouquet  before 
him. 

"  My  dear  sir,  here  are  your  flowers  ;  they  are  not  as  pretty 
as  usual,  but  sweet  enough  to  atone  for  lack  of  beauty." 

He  fingered  them  caressingly,  laid  them  against  his  hollow 


ALTARS    OF    SACKIFICP:.  159 

cheeks,  and  Iiid  his  lips  among  thdr  fragrant  petals,  bnt  the  star- 
ry eyes  were  fixed  on  the  features  of  the  pupil. 

"  It  is  bitter  weather  out  ;  did  you  brave  it  for  these  ?  Thank 
you,  but  don't  expose  yourself  so  in  future.  Two  invalids  in  a 
house  are  quite  enough.  You  are  snow-crowned,  little  one  ;  do 
you  know  it  ?  The  frosting  gleams  right  royally  on  that  black 
hair  of  yours,  ^"ay,  child,  don't  brush  it  off ;  like  all  lovely 
things  it  fades  rapidly,  melts  away  like  the  dreams  that  flutter 
around  a  boy  in  the  witchery  of  a  long,  still,  sunny  summer 
day." 

His  thin  hand  nestled  in  her  shining  hair,  and  she  submitted 
to  the  touch  in  silence. 

"  My  dove  soared  away  fi-om  this  dreary  ark,  and  bathed  her 
silver  wings  in  the  free  air  of  Heaven  ;  returning  but  to  bring 
me  some  grateful  memorial,  an  olive-branch,  wherewith  to  deck 
this  gloomy  ark  of  mine.  Xext  time  she  will  soar  farther,  and 
find  a  more  tempting  perch,  and  gladden  Noah's  eyes  no  more." 

"  If  so,  it  will  be  because  the  high  and  dry  land  of  God  beck- 
ons her  ;  and  when  the  deluge  is  ended,  she  will  be  needed  no 
longer." 

"  For,  then,  Electra,  Xoah's  haven  of  rest  will  be  the  fair  still 
fields  of  Eternity." 

In  this  semi-metaphoric  strain  he  often  indulged  of  late,  but 
she  felt  little  inclination  to  humor  the  whim,  and,  interlacing  her 
slight  fingers,  she  answered,  half  impatiently  : 

"  Your  simile  is  all  awry,  sir.  Most  unfortunately,  I  have  no- 
thing dove-like  in  my  nature." 

*'  Originally  you  had,  but  your  character  has  been  warped." 

"  By  what,  or  whom  ?" 

"  Primarily,  by  unhappy  extraneous  circumstances,  influences 
if  you  will,  which  contributed  to  a  diseased  development  of  two 
passions,  that  now  preponderate  over  all  other  elements  of  your 
character." 

"  A  diagnosis  which  I  will  not  accept." 

"  A  true  one,  nevertheless,  my  child." 

*'  Possibly  ;  but  we  will  waive  a  discussion  just  now.  I  am, 
and  always  intend  to  be,  true  to  the  nature  which  God  gave  me." 


160  MAC  ARIA  ;  OR, 

"  A  dangerous  dogma  that.  Ek-ctra,  how  do  you  knovr  tliat 
the  '  nature '  you  fondle  and  plume  yourself  upon,  emanated  from 
your  Maker  ?" 

"How  do  you  know,  sh',  that  God  intended  that  willows 
should  droop,  and  trail  their  slender  boughs  earthward,  while 
poplars,  like  granite-shafts,  shoot  up,  lifting  their  silver-shimmer- 
ing leaflets  ever  to  the  clouds  ?  Who  fingered  their  germs,  and 
directed  their  course  ?" 

"  The  analogy  will  not  hold  between  the  vegetable  kingdom 
and  the  moral  and  intellectual  spheres.  Men  and  women  are 
not  cast  in  particular  moulds,  bound  by  iron  laws,  and  labelled, 

like  plants  or  brutes,  Genus ,  Species .     Moreover,  to 

man  alone  was  given  free  agency,  even  to  the  extent  of  uproot- 
ing, crusliing  entirely  the  original  impulses  implanted  by  God  in 
the  human  heart  to  act  as  motive  power.  I  have  known  people 
insane  enough  to  i)luck  out  the  wheat,  and  culture,  into  rank  lux- 
uriance, the  tares  in  their  nature.  Child,  do  you  ever  look  ahead 
to  the  coming  harvest-time  ?" 

"  If  I  do,  it  contents  me  to  know  that  each  soul  binds  up  its 
own  sheaves." 

"  No  ;  angels  are  reapers,  and  make  up  the  account  for  the 
Lord  of  the  harvest." 

"  I  don't  believe  that.  Xo  third  party  has  any  voice  in  that 
last,  loug-reckouing.  God  and  the  creature  only  see  the  balance 
sheet." 

She  rose,  and  leaning  against  the  mantel,  put  out  her  hand  to 
caress  the  solemn-eyed  solitary  pet  of  the  studio.  How  he  came 
to  be  the  solace  and  companion  of  the  artist  she  had  never  been 
told,  but  knew  that  a  strange  fellowship  hnked  the  gray  old  fa- 
vorite with  the  master,  and  wondered  at  the  almost  human 
expression  with  which  it  sometimes  looked  from  its  lofty  pedestal 
upon  the  languid  movements  of  the  painter.  "  Munin"  was  the 
name  he  ever  recognized  and  answered  to,  and,  when  she  one  day 
repeated  it  to  herself,  puzzling  over  its  significance,  'Sir.  Clifton 
told  her  that  it  meant  ''  memory,"  in  Scandinavian  lore,  and  be- 
longed to  one  of  the  favorite  birds  of  Odin.  It  was  one  of  his 
many  strange  whims,  fostered  by  life-long  researches  among  the 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  IGl 

mythologies  of  the  Old  World  :  and  Electra  struggled  to  over- 
come th(i  undefinable  sensation  of  awe. and  repulsion  which  crept 
over  her  whenever  she  met  that  fascinating  stare  fixed  upon  her. 
As  little  love  had  the  bird  for  her,  and,  though  occasionally  it 
settled  upon  the  cross-beam  of  her  easel,  and  watched  the  slow 
motion  of  her  brush,  they  seemed  to  shrink  from  each  other. 
Now,  as  her  soft  hand  touched  his  feathers,  they  rumpled,  bristled, 
and  he  flitted  to  the  artist's  knee,  uttering  a  hoarse,  prolonged, 
most  melancholy  note,  as  the  master  caressed  him. 

"  Wliy  are  not  you  and  Munin  better  friends  ?" 

"  Because  I  am  not  wise  enough,  or  evil-boding  in  appearance, 
or  snfBciently  owlish  to  suit  him,  I  suppose.  He  chills  my  blood 
sometimes,  when  I  come  here,  in  twilight,  before  the  gas  is  lighted. 
I  would  almost  as  soon  confront  Medusa.-' 

She  took  from  the  curious  oval  mosaic  table  a  new  book  contain- 
ing her  mark,  and  reseated  herself.  As  she  did  so,  Munin  flapped 
his  dusky  wings  and  disappeared  through  the  door  opening  into 
the  hall,  and,  shading  her  face  with  one  hand,  she  read  aloud  a 
passage  heavily  underlined  by  a  pencil. 

"  But  this  poor,  miserable  Me  !  Is  this,  then,  all  the  book  I 
have  got  to  read  about  God  in  ?  Yes,  truly  so.  No  other 
book,  nor  fragment  of  book,  than  that  will  you  ever  find — no 
velvet-bound  missal,  nor  fraukincensed  manuscript  ;  nothing 
hieroglyphic  nor  cuneiform  ;  papyrus  and  pyramid  are  alike  silent 
on  this  matter  ;  nothing  in  the  clouds  above,  nor  in  the  earth 
beneath.  That  flesh-bound  volume  is  the  only  revelation  that  is, 
that  was,  or  that  can  be.  In  that  is  the  image  of  God  painted ; 
in  that  is  the  law  of  God  written  ;  in  that  is  the  promise  of  God 
revealed.  Know  thyself ;  for  through  thyself  only  thou  canst 
know  God.  Through  the  glass  darkly  ;  but,  except  through  the 
glass,  in  no  wise.  A  tremulous  crystal,  waved  as  water,  poured 
out  upon  the  ground  ;  you  may  defile  it,  despise  it,  pollute  it  at 
your  pleasure,  and  at  your  peril  ;  for  on  the  peace  of  those  weak 
waves  must  all  Jhe  heaven  you  shall  ever  gain  be  first  seen,  and 
through  such  purity  as  you  can  win  for  those  dark  waves  mu>t 
all  the  light  of  the  risen  Sun  of  Brightness  be  bent  down  by  faiut 
refraction.     Cleanse  them,  and  calm  them,  as  you  love  your  life.'* 


162  MACARIA  ;   OR, 

"  Mr.  Clifton,  this  epitomizes  my  creed.  There  is  nothing 
new  in  it  ;  I  grant  yoii.it  is  old  as  the  Delphian  inscription. 
Two  thousand  years  ago  Socrates  preached  it  in  the  Agora,  at 
Athens.  Xow  it  shakes  off  its  Greek  apparel,  and  comes  to  this 
generation  encumbered  in  loosely-fitting  English  garments — im- 
memorial Truth  peering  through  modern  masks." 

He  regarded  her  with  an  expression  of  sorrowful  tenderness, 
and  his  hand  trembled  as  he  placed  it  upon  her  head. 

"  Tliis  darling  creed,  this  infalUble  egotism  of  yours,  will  fail 
you  in  the  day  of  fierce  trial.  Pagan  that  you  are,  I  know  not 
what  is  to  become  of  you.  Oh,  Electra  I  if  you  would  only  be 
warned  in  time." 

The  warmth  of  the  room  had  vermilioned  her  cheeks,  and  the 
long  Ijlack  lashes  failed  to  veil  in  any  degree  the  flash  of  the  eyes 
she  raised  to  his  face.  Removing  the  hand  from  her  head, 
she  took  it  in  both  hers,  and  a  cold,  dauntless  smile  wreathed 
her  lips. 

"  Be  easy  on  my  account.  I  am  not  afraid  of  my  future. 
Why  should  I  be  ?  God  built  an  arsenal  in  every  soul  before 
he  launched  it  on  the  stormv  sea  of  Time,  and -the  kev  to  mine  is 
Will  !  I  am  young  and  healthy  ;  the  rich  pniple  blood  bubbles 
through  ray  veins  like  Chiau  wine  ;  and,  with  my  heritage  of 
poverty  and  obscurity,  I  look  fortune's  favorites  in  the  eye,  and 
dare  them  to  retard  or  crush  me.  A  vast  caravan  of  mighty 
souls,  *  Whose  distant  footsteps  echo  down  the  corridors  of  Time,' 
have  gone  before  me  ;  and  step  by  step  I  tramp  after.  What 
waimau  has  done,  woman  may  do  ;  a  glorious  sisterhood  of 
artists  beckon  me  on  ;  what  Elizabeth  Cheron,  Sibylla  Merian^ 
Angelica  KaufFman,  Elizabeth  Le  Brun,  Felicie  Fauveau,  and 
Rosa  Bonheur  have  achieved,  I  also  wdll  accomplish,  or  die  in  the 
effort.  These  traveled  no  royal  road  to  immortality,  but  rugged, 
thorny  paths  ;  and  who  shall  stay  my  feet  ?  Afar  off  gleams  my 
resting  place,  but  ambition  scourges  me  unflaggingly  on.  Do 
not  worry  about  my  future;  I  will  take  care  of  it,  and  of  myself." 

"  And  when,  after  years  of  toil,  you  win  fame,  even  fame 
enougli  to  satisfy  your  large  expectations,  what  then  ?  Whither 
»vill  you  look  for  happiness  ?" 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  163 

'  '*  I  will  grapple  fame  to  my  empty  heart,  as  women  do  other 
idols." 

"  It  will  freeze  you,  my  dear  ehild.  Kemember  tlie  mourn- 
ful verdict  which  Dante  gave  the  world  through  the  lips  of 
Oderigi  : 

"  Cimabue  thought 

To  lord  it  over  pa#iting's  field  :  and  now 
The  cry  is  (Jiotto's,  and  his  name  eclipsed. 
Thus  hath  one  Gnide  from  the  other  snatched 
The  lettered  prize  :  and  he,  perhaps,  is  born,  ' 
Who  shall  drive  either  from  their  nest.     The  noise 
Of  worldly  fame  is  but  a  blast  of  wind, 
That  blows  from  divers  points  and  shifts  its  name, 
Shifting  the  point  it  blows  from." 

"  And,  Electra,  that  chill  blast  will  wail  through  your  lonely 
heart,  chanting  a  requiem  over  the  trampled,  dead  hopes  that 
might  have  garlanded  your  life.  Be  warned,  oh  !  dauo-hter  of 
Agamemnon  !  '^ 

"  The  earth  hath  bubbles  as  the  water  hath. 
And  this  is  of  them." 

"  At  all  events,  I  will  risk  it.  Thank  God  !  whatever  other 
faults  I  confess  to,  there  is  no  taint  of  cowardice  in  my  soul." 

She  rose,  and  stood  a  moment  on  the  rug,  looking  into  the  red 
net-work  of  coals,  then  turned  to  leave  hini^,  saying  : 

"  I  must  go  to  your  mother  now,  and  presently  I  will  brino- 
your  tea.'^  ° 

"  You  need  not  trouble.  I  can  go  to  the  dining-room  to- 
night." 

"  It  is  no  trouble  ;  it  gives  me  great  pleasure  to  do  some 
thmg  for  your  comfort  ;  and  I  know  you  dlways  enjoy  your  sui> 
per  more  when  you  have  it  here." 

As  she  closed  the  door,  lie  pressed  his  face  against  the  moroc- 
co lining  and  groaned  unconsciously,  and  large  glittering-  tear^^ 
creeping  from  beneath  the  trembling  lashes,  hid  themselve^'s  in  the 
curling. brown  beard. 

To  see  that  .Afrs.  Clifton's  supper  suited  her,  and  then  to  read 
aloud  to  her  for  half  an  hour  from  the  worn  family  Bible,  was 
part  of  the  daily  routine  which  Electra  permitted  nothing  to  in- 


164  MACARTA  ;    OR, 

terrupt.  On  this  occasion  she  found  the  old  lady  seated,  as 
nsuaJ,  before  the  fire,  her  crutches  leaning  against  the  chair,  and 
her  favorite  cat  curled  on  the  carpet  at  her  feet.  Most  tenderly 
did  the  aged  crip})le  love  her  son's  protegee,  and  the  wrinkled, 
sallow  face  lighted  up  with  a  smile  of  pleasure  at  her  entrance. 

''  I  thought  it  was  about  time  for  you  to  come  to  me.  Sit 
down,  dear,  and  touch  the  bell  for  Mate.    How  is  Harry  ?" 

"  Xo  stronger,  I  am  afraid.  You  know  this  is  very  bad  wea- 
ther for  him." 

"  Yes  ;  when  he  came  up  to-day  I  thought  he  looked  more 
feeble  than  I  had  ever  seen  him  ;  and,  as  I  sit  here  and  listen  to 
his  hollow  cough,  everv  sound  seems  a  stab  at  mv  heart."  She 
rocked  herself  to  and  fro  for  a  moment,  and  added,  mournfully  : 

"  Ah,  child  !  it  is  so  hard  to  see  my  youngest  boy  going  down 
to  the  grave  before  me.  The  last  of  five,  I  hoped  he  would  survive 
me,  but  consumption  is  a  terrible  thing  ;  it  took  my  husband 
first,  then,  in  quick  succession,  my  Other  children,  and  now  Harry, 
my  darling,  my  youngest,  is  the  last  prey." 

Anxious  to  divert  her  mind,  Electra  adroitly  changed  the  con- 
versation, and,  when  she  rose  to  say  good-night,  sometime  after, 
had  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  the  old  lady  had  fallen 
asleep.  It  was  in  vain  that  she  arranged  several  tempting  dishes 
on  the  table  beside  the  painter,  and  coaxed  him  to  partake  of 
them  ;  he  received  but  a  cup  of  tea  from  her  hand,  and  motion- 
ed the  remainder  away.  As  the  servant  removed  the  tray  he 
looked  up  at  his  pupil,  and  said  : 

"  Please  wheel  the  lounge  nearer  to  the  grate  ;  I  am  too  tired 
to  sit  up  to-night," 

She  complied  at  once,  shook  up  the  pillow,  and,  as  he  laid  his 
head  upon  it,  she  spread  his  heavy  plaid  shawl  over  him. 

"  Now,  sir,  what  shall  I  read  this  evening  ?" 

"  '  Arcana  Ccelestia^  if  you  please." 

She  took  up  the  volume,  and  began  at  the  place  he  designated  ; 
and  as  she  read  on  and  on,  her  rich  flexible  voice  rose  and  fell 
upon  the  air  like  waves  of  melody.  One  of  her  hands  chanced  to 
haiii!;  over  the  arm  of  the  chair,  and  as  she  sat  near  the  kmuire. 
thin  hot  fingers  twined  about  it,  drew  it  caressingly  to  the  pillow. 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  165 

a. 

and  held  it  tij^litly.  Ihr  first  impulse  was  to  withdraw  it,  and 
an  expression  of  annoyance  crossed  her  features  ;  but,  on  second 
thought,  slic  suffered  her  fingers  to  rest  passively  in  his.  Now 
and  then,  as  she  turned  a  leaf,  she  met  his  luminous  eyes  fastened 
npon  her  ;  but  after  a  time  tlie  quick  breathing  attracted  her  at- 
tention, and,  looking  down,  she  saw  that  he,  too,  was  sleeping.  She 
closed  the  book  and  remained  quiet,  fearful  of  disturbing  him  ; 
and  as  she  studied  the  weary,  fevered  face,  noting  the  march  of 
disease,  the  sorrowful  drooping  of  the  mouth,  so  indicative  of 
grievous  disappointment,  a  new  and  holy  tenderness  awoke  in  her 
heart.  It  was  a  feelin2*  analoirous  to  that  of  a  mother  for  a  suf- 
faring  child,  who  can  be  soothed  only  by  her  presence  and  ca- 
resses— an  affection  not  unfrequently  kindled  in  haughty  natures 
by  the  entire  dependence  of  a  weaker  one.  Blended  with  this 
was  a  remorseful  consciousness  of  the  coldness  with  which  she  had 
persistently  rejected,  repulsed  every  manifestation  of  his  devoted 
love  ;  and,  winding  her  fingers  through  his  long  hair,  she  vowed 
an  atonement  for  the  past  in  increased  gentleness  for  the  remain- 
der of  his  waning  life.  As  she  bent  over  him,  wearing  her  com- 
passion in  her  face,  he  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  at  her. 

"  How  long  have  I  slept  V^ 

"  Nearly  an  hour.     How  do  you  feel  since  your  nap  ?" 

He  made  no  reply,  and  she  put  her  hand  on  his  forehead.  The 
countenance  lighted,  and  he  said,  slowly  : 

"  Ah  !  yes,  press  your  cool  soft  httle  palm  on  my  brow.  It 
seems  to  still  the  throbbing  of  my  temples." 

"  It  is  late,  Mr.  Clifton,  and  I  must  leave  you.  William  look- 
ed in,  a  few  minutes  since,  to  say  that  the  fire  burned  iu  your 
room,  but  I  would  not  wake  you.  I  will  send  him  to  you.  Good- 
night." 

She  leaned  down  voluntarily  and  kissed  him,  and,  with  a  quick 
movement,  he  folded  her  to  his  heart  an  instant,  then  released 
her,  murmuring,  huskily  : 

"God  bless  you,  Elcctra,  and  reward  you  for  your  patient  en- 
durance.    Good-night,  my  precious  child," 

She  went  to  her  room,  all  unconscious  of  the  burst  of  emotion 
which  shook  the  feeble  frame  of  the  painter,  long  after  she  had 


1(36  macakia;  or, 

laid  her  head  on  her  pillow  iu  the  sound  slumber  of  healthful 
youth. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

TriE  year  that  ensued  proved  a  valuable  school  of  patience, 
and  taught  the  young  artist  a  gentleness  of  tone  and  quietude 
of  mauner  at  variance  with  the  natural  impetuosity  of  her  char- 
acter. Irksome  beyond  degree  was  the  discipline  to  which  she 
subjected  herself,  but, with  a  fixedness  of  purpose  that  knew 
no  wavering,  she  walked  through  tire  daily  dreary  routine, 
keeping  her  eyes  upon  the  end  that  slowly  but  unmistakably 
approached.  In  mid-summer  Mr.  Clifton  removed,  for  a  few 
weeks,  to  the  Catskill,  and  occasionall)''  he  rallied  for  a  few 
hours,  with  a  tenacity  of  strength  almost  miraculous.  Daring 
the  still  sunny  afternoons  hosts  of  gay  visitors,'  summer  tourists, 
often  paused  in  their  excursions  to  watch  the  emaciated  form 
of  the  painter  leaning  on  the  arm  of  his  beautiful  pupil,  or 
reclining  on  a  lichen  carpeted  knoll  while  she  sketched  the  sur- 
rounding scenery.  Increased  feebleness  prevented  Mrs.  Clifton 
from  joining  in  these  out-door  jaunts,  and  early  in  September, 
when  it  became  apparent  that  her  mind  was  rapidly  sinking 
into  imbecility,  they  returned  to  the  city.  Memory  seemed  to 
have  deserted  its  throne  ;  she  knew  neither  her  son  nor  Electra, 
and  the  last  spark  of  intelligence  manifested  itself  in  a  semi- 
recognition  of  her  favorite  cat,  which  sprang  to  welcome  her 
back  as  friendly  hands  bore  her  to  the  chamber  she  was  to  quit 
no  more  till  death  released  the  crushed  spirit.  A  letter  was 
found  on  the  atelier  mantle,  directed  to  Electra  in  familiar 
characters,  which  she  had  not  seen  for  months.  Very  quietly 
she  put  it  in  her  pocket,  and  in  the  solitude  of  her  room 
broke  the  seal ;  found  that  Kussell  had  returned  during  her 
.absence,  had  spent  a  morning  in  the  studio  looking  over  her 
work,  and  had  gone  south  to  establish  himself  in  his  native 
town.     Ah  !  the  grievous,  grievous  disappointment.     A  bitter 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  167 

cry  rolled  from  her  lips,  and  the  hands  wrnng  each  other 
despairingly;  hut  an  hour  later  she  stood  beside  tiie  ariist  with 
unruftled  brow  and  a  serene  mouth,  that  bore  no  sur lace-token 
of  the  sorrow  gnawing  at  her  heart.  Winter  came  on  earlier 
than  usual,  with  unwonted  severity ;  anrl,  week  after  week, 
Electra  went  continually  from  one  sufferer  to  another,  striving 
to  alleviate  pain,  and  to  kindle  a  stray  beam  of  sunshine  in  the 
darkened  mansion.  As  one  living  thing  in  a  charnel-house  she 
flitted  from  room  to  room,  sometimes  shrinking  from  her  own 
shadow,  that  glided  before  her  on  the  polished  wall  as  she 
went  up  and  down  stairs  in  the  dead  of  night.  Unremitted  vigil 
set  its  pale,  infallible  signet  on  her  face,  but  Mr.  Clifton  either 
could  not  or  would  not  see  the  painful  alteiation  in  her  appear- 
ance ;  and  when  Mrs.  Young  remonstrated  with  her  niece  upon 
the  ruinous  effects  of  this  tedious  confinement  to  the  house, 
she  only  answered,  steadily  :  "  I  will  nurse  him  so  long  as  I 
have  strength  left  to  creep  from  one  room  to  another." 

During  Christmas  week  he  grew  alarmingly  worse,  and  Dr. 
LeRoy  counted  the  waning  life  by  hours ;  but  on  New  Year's 
eve  he  declared  himself  almost  well,  and  insisted  on  being  carried 
to  the  studio.  The  whim  was  humored,  and  wrapped  in  his 
silken  robe  lU  chamhre^  he  was  seated  in  his  large  cushioned 
chair,  smiling  to  find  himself  once  more  in  the  midst  of  his 
treasures.  Turning  back  the  velvet  cuff  from  his  attenuated 
wrist,  he  lifted  his  flushed  face  toward  the  nurse,  and  said, 
eagerly  :  "  Uncover  my  easel ;  make  William  draw  it  close  to 
me ;  I  have  been  idle  long  enough.  Give  me  my  palette ;  I 
want  to  retouch  the  forehead  of  my  hero.   It  needs  a  high  lio-ht." 

"  You  are  not  strong  enough  to  work.     Wait  till  to-morrow." 

*'  To-morrow  !  to-morrow !  You  have  told  me  that  fifty 
times.  W^heel  up  the  easel,  I  say.  The  spell  is  upon  me,  and 
work  I  will." 

It  was  the  "  ruling  passion  strong  in  death,"  and  Electra 
acquiesced,  arranging  the  colors  on  the  palette  as  he  directed, 
and  selecting  the  brushes  he  required.  Resting  his  feet  upon 
the  crossbeam,  he  leaned  forward  and  gazed  earnestly  upon  his 
master-ijiece,  the  darling  design  which  had  haunted  his  brain  for 


168  MACAETA  ;   OE, 

years.  "  Theta"  he  called  this  piece  of  canvas,  which  was  a 
large  square  painting  representing,  in  the  foreground,  the  death 
of  Socrates.  Around  the  reclining  form  of  the  philosopher 
clustered  Apollodorus,  Cebes,  Simmias,  and  Crito,  and  through  the 
window  of  the  prison  came  the  last  slanting,  quivering  ray  of  the 
setting  sun,  showing  the  street  beyond,  where,  against  the  stone 
wall,  near  a  gleaming  guardian  Hermes,  huddled  a  mournful 
group — Xantippe  and  her  weeping  children.  The  details  of  the 
picture  were  finished  with  pre-Raphaelite  precision  and  minute- 
ness— the  sweep  and  folds  of  drapery  about  the  couch,  the 
emptied  hemlock  cup — but  the  central  figure  of  the  Martyr 
lacked  something,  and  to  these  last  touches  Mr.  Clifton  essayed 
to  address  himself.  Slowly,  feebly,  the  transparent  hand 
wandered  over  the  canvas,  and  Electra  heard  with  alarm  the 
labored  breath  that  came  panting  from  his  parted  lips.  She 
saw  the  unnatural  sparkle  in  his  sunken  eyes  almost  die  out, 
then  leap  wp  again,  like  smouldering  embers  swept  by  a  sudden 
gust,  and  in  the  clear  strong  voice  of  other  years,  he  repeated 
to  himself  the  very  words  of  Plato's  Phjedo  :  "  For  I  have 
heard  that  it  is  right  to  die  with  good  omens.  Be  quiet,  there- 
fore, and  bear  up." 

Leaning  back  to  note  the  effect  of  his  touches,  a  shiver  ran 
through  his  frame,  the  brush  fell  from  his  tremulous  fingers,  and 
he  lay  motionless  and  exhausted. 

Electra  threw  up  the  sash,  that  the  wintry  air  might  revive 
him  ;  and  as  the  red  glare  of  declining  day  streamed  down  from 
the  skylight  upon  the  group,  she  looked  from  the  easy  chair  to 
the  canvas,  and  mutely  questioned  :  "  Which  is  most  thanatoid — 
painter  or  painted  ?" 

Folding  his  hands  like  a  helpless,  tired  child,  he  raised  his 
eyes  to  hers  and  said,  brokenly  : 

"  I  bequeath  it  to  you ;  finish  my  work.  You  understand 
me — you  know  what  is  lacking ;  finish  my  '  Theta,'  and  tell 
the  world  I  died  at  work  upon  it.  Oh  !  for  a  fraction  of  my 
old  strength  !  One  hour  more  to  complete  my  Socrates ! 
Just  one  hour  !     I  would  ask  no  more.'' 

She  tried  to  persuade  him  to. return  to  his  own  room,  but  he 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  160 

obstinately  refused,  and  when  she  insisted,  he  answered,  plead- 
ingly :  No,  no  ;  let  me  stay  here.  Do  let  me  be  quiet  here.  I 
hate  tliat  gloomy,  tomb-like  room." 

She  gave  him  a  powerful  cordial  which  the  physician  had 
left,  and  having  arranged  the  pillows  on  the  lounge,  drew  it 
close  to  the  easel,  and  prevailed  on  him  to  lie  down. 

A  servant  was  despatched  for  Dr.  LeRoy,  but  returned  to 
say  that  a  dangerous  case  detained  him  elsewhere. 

"  Mr.  Clifton,  would  you  like  to  have  your  mother  brought 
down  stairs  and  placed  beside  you  for  a  while  ?'' 

"  No  ;  I  want  nobody  but  you.  Sit  down  here  close  to  me, 
and  keep  quiet." 

She  lowered  the  heavy  curtains,  shaded  the  gas-globe,  and, 
placing  a  bunch  of  sweet  violets  on  his  pillow,  sat  down  at  his 
side.  His  favorite  spaniel  nestled  at  her  feet,  and  occasionally 
threw  up  his  head  and  gazed  wistfully  at  his  master.  Thus  two 
hours  passed,  and  as  she  rose  to  administer  the  medicine  he 
waved  it  off,  saying  : 

"  Give  me  no  more  of  it.  I  won't  be  drugged  in  my  last  hours. 
I  won't  have  my  intellect  clouded  by  opiates.  Throw  it  into  the 
fire,  and  let  me  rest." 

"  Oh,  sir  I  can  I  do  nothing  for  you  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  read  to  me.  Your  voice  lulls  me.  Read  me  that 
letter  of  lamblichus  to  Agathocles,  which  I  marked  last  sum- 
mer." 

She  read  it,  and,  without  questioning,  laid  the  book  aside  and 
took  up  a  volume  of  Jacob  Behmen,  of  which  he  was  very  fond, 
selecting,  here  and  there,  passages  designated  by  pencil  marks. 
He  had  long  revelled  among  the  echoless  abysses  of  dim,  medi- 
eval mystical  lore,  and,  strange  as  it  may  appear,  the  quaint  old 
books  preserved  their  spell  and  riveted  the  wandering  mind,  even 
on  the  verge  of  dissolution.  She  knew  that  Cornelius- Agrippa, 
Theophrastus  Paracelsus,  and  Swedenborg  held  singular  mastery 
over  him  ;  but  she  shrank  from  all  these  now,  as  though  they 
had  been  bound  in  flames,  and  a  yearning  to  comfort  him  from 
the  sacred  lips  of  Jewish  prophets  and  apostles  took  possession 
of  her.     Passages  which  she  had  read  to  her  blind  aunt  came 

8   * 


170  MAC  ART  A  ;    OR, 

back  to  her  now,  ringing  trumpet-toned  in  her  ears,  and  she  rose 
to  brino:  a  Bible  from  Mrs.  Clifton's  room. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?" 

"  To  your  mother's  room,  for  a  moment  only.  I  want  a  book 
which  I  left  there." 

"  Sit  still.  Dp  not  leave  me,  I  beg  of  you."  He  drew  her 
back  to  the  seat,  and  after  a  short  silence  said,  slowly  : 

"  Electra,  are  you  afraid  of  death  ?" 

"  Xo,  sir." 

"  Do  you  know  that  I  am  dying  ?" 

"  I  have  seen  you  as  ill  several  times  before." 

*'  You  are  a  brave,  strong-hearted  child  ;  glazed  eyes  and  stiff- 
ened limbs  will  not  frighten  you.  I  have  but  few  hours  to  live  ; 
put  your  hand  in  mine,  and  promise  me  that  you  will  sit  here  till 
my  soul  quits  its  clay  prison.  Will  you  watch  with  me  the  death 
of  the  year  ?     Are  you  afraid  to  stay  with  me,  and  see  me  die  ?" 

She  would  not  trust  herself  to  speak,  but  laid  her  hand  in  his 
and  clasped  it  firmly.     He  smiled,  and  added  : 

"  Will  you  promise  to  call  no  one  ?  I  want  no  eyes  but  yours 
to  watch  me  as  I  die.     Let  there  be  only  you  and  me." 

"  I  promise." 

For  some  moments  he  lay  motionless,  but  the  intensity  of  his 
gaze  made  her  restless,  and  she  shaded  her  face. 

"  Electra,  my  darling,  your  martyrdom  draws  to  a  close.  I 
have  been  merciless  in  my  exactions,  I  know  ;  you  are  worn  to 
a  shadow,  and  your  face  is  sharp  and  haggard  ;  but  you  will  for- 
give me  all,  when  the  willows  of  Greenwood  trail  their  boughs 
across  my  head-stone.  You  have  been  faithful  and  uncomplain- 
ing ;  you  have  been  to  me  a  light,  a  joy,  and  a  glory  1  God 
bless  you,  my  pupil.  There  was  a  time  when,  looking  at  the  fu- 
ture that  stretched  before  you,  I  shuddered  on  your  account. 
Since  then  I  have  learned  to  know  you  better  ;  I  feel  assured 
your  nature  will  be  equal  to  its  trials.  You  can  conquer  difficul- 
ties, and,  better  still,  you  can  work  and  live  alone  ;  you  can  con- 
quer your  own  heart.  I  am  passing  to  a  higher,  purer,  happier 
sphere  ;  but  my  spirit  will  hover  constantly  around  you  here,  in 
the  midst  of  your  work,  overlooking  you  continually,  as  in  the 


ALTARS    OF    8ACRIFICK.  171 

days  tluit  have  gone  by.  I  liavc  one  request  to  make  of  yon, 
aud  unhesitatingly  I  make  it :  remain  iij  tiiis  house,  and  watch 
over  my  poor  mother's  last  hours  as  you  watched  over  and  cheer- 
ed mine.  It  is  a  heavy  burden  to  lay  upon  you  ;  but  you  have 
patiently  borne  as  heavy,  and  I  have  no  fear  thitt  you  will  desert 
her  when  the  last  of  her  sons  sleep  under  marble.  She  will  never 
know  that  I  have  gone  before  her  till  we  meet  in  another  w^orld. 
In  ray  vest-pocket  is  the  key  of  my  writing-desk.  There  you 
will  find  my  will  ;  take  charge  of  it,  and  put  it  in  Le  Roy's 
hands  as  soon  as  possible.     Give  me  some  water." 

She  held  the  glass  to  his  lips,  and,  as  he  sank  back,  a  bright 
smile  played  over  his  face. 

"  Ah,  child  !  it  is  such  a  comfort  to  have  you  here — you  are 
so  inexpressibly  dear  to  me." 

She  t6ok  his  thin  hands  in  hers,  and  hot  tears  fell  upon  them. 
An  intolerable  weight  crushed  her  heart,  a  half-defined,  horrible 
dread,  and  she  asked,  falteringly  : 

"  Are  you  willing  to  die  ?  Is  your  soul  at  peace  with  God  ? 
Have  you  any  fear  of  Eternity  ?" 

"  Xone,  my  child,  none." 

"  Would  you  like  to  have  Mr.  Bailey  come  and  pray  for  you  ?" 

"  I  want  no  one  now  but  you." 

A  long  silence  ensued,  broken  only  by  the  heavily  drawn  breath 
of  the  sufferer.  The  memory  of  her  aunt's  tranquil  death  haunt- 
ed the  girl,  and,  finally,  the  desire  to  direct  his  thoughts  to  God 
triumphed  over  every  other  feeling.  She  sank  on  her  knees  be- 
side the  lounge,  and  a  passionate  prayer  leaped  from  her  pale 
lips.  She  had  not  prayed  for  nearly  four  years,  and  the  petition 
went  up  to  God  framed  in  strange,  incoherent  language — a  plain- 
tive cry  to  the  Father  to  release,  painlessly,  a  struggling  human 
soul.  His  fingers  clung  spasmodically  to  hers,  and  soon  after 
the  head  sank  on  his  chest,  and  she  saw  that  he  slept. 

The  glittering  cortege  of  constellations  moved  solemnly  on  in 
tjieir  eternal  march  through  the  fields  of  heaven,  and  in  mid-sky 
hung  a  moon  of  almost  supernatural  brightness,  glaring  down 
through  the  sky-light  like  an  inquisitorial  eye.    Two  hours  elaps- 


172  MACARIA  ;    OK, 

ed  ;  the  measured  melancholy  tick  of  the  clock  marked  the  ex- 
piring raomeats  of  the  q^d  year  ;  the  red  coals  of  the  grate  put 
on  their  robe  of  ashes  ;  the  gas-light  burned  dimly,  and  flickered 
now  and  then  as  the  wind  surged  through  the  partially  opened 
window  ;  and  there  by  the  couch  sat  the  motionless  watcher,  not- 
ing the  indescribable  but  unmistakable  change  creeping  on,  like 
the  shadow  which  slowly-sailing  summer  clouds  cast  down  upon 
green  meadows  or  flowery  hill-sides,  darkening  the  landscape.  Tlie 
feeble,  thread-lilvc  pulse  fluttered  irregularly,  but  the  breathing 
became  easy  and  low  as  a  babe's,  and  occasionally  a  gentle  sigh 
heaved  the  chest.     Once  his  lips  had  moved,  and  she  caught  the 

indistinct  words — "  Discreet  degrees  "  "  influx " 

"  type-creature."  She  knew  that  the  end  was  at  hand,  and  a 
strained,  frigiitened  expression  came  into  her  large  eyes  as  she 
glanced  nervously  round  the  room,  weird  and  awful  in  its  gloomy 
surroundings.  The  damp  masses  of  hair  clung  to  her  temples, 
and  she  felt  heavy  drops  gathering  on  her  forehead,  as  in  that 
glance  she  met  the  solemn,  fascinating  eyes  of  Munin  staring  at 
her  from  the  low  mantle.  She  caught  her  breath,  and  the  deep 
silence  was  broken  by  the  metallic  tongue  that  dirged  out 
"  twelve."  The  last  stroke  of  the  bronze  hammer  echoed  drearily  ; 
the  old  year  lay  stark  and  cold  on  its  bier  ;  Munin  flapped  his 
dusky  wings  with  a  long,  sepulchral,  blood-curdling  hoot,  and  the 
dying  man  opened  his  dim,  failing  eyes,  and  fixed  them  for  the 
last  time  on  his  pupil. 

"  Electra,  my  darling." 

"  My  dear  master,  I  am  here.  " 

She  lifted  his  head  to  her  bosom,  nestled  her  fingers  into  his 
cold  palm,  and  leaned  her  cheek  against  his  brow.  Pressing  his 
face  close  to  hers,  the  gray  eyes  closed,  and  a  smile  throned  itself 
on  the  parted  lips.  A  slight  tremor  shook  the  limbs,  a  soft  shud- 
during  breath  swept  across  the  watcher's  face,  and  the  ''golden 
bowl  "  was  shivered,  the  "  silver  cord"  was  loosed. 

She  sat  there  till  the  iciness  of  the  rigid  form  chilled  her,  then* 
laid  the  head  tenderly  down  on  its  pillow,  and  walked  to  the 
mantle-piece.     The  Angel  of  Time  lifted  the  hammer  and  struck 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  17 


Q 


'one  ;"  and  as  she  gianeeil  accidentally  at  the  inscription  on  the 
base,  she  remembered  a  favorite  quotation  which  it  had  often 
called  from  the  cold  lips  of  the  dead  painter  : 

"  Time  is  my  fair  seed-field,  of  Time  I  'm  heir." 

The  seed-time  had  ended  ;  the  calm  fields  of  eternity  stretched 
before  him  now  ;  the  fruits  of  the  harvest  were  required  at  his 

hands.     Were  they  full  of  ripe  golden  sheaves,  or ?     She 

shrank  from  her  own  questioning,  and  looked  over  her  shoulder 
at  the  dreamless,  smiling  sleeper, 

"  His  palms  are  folded  on  his  breast : 
Tliere  is  no  other  thing  expressed, 
But  long  disquiet  merged  in  rest." 

The  vigil  was  over,  the  burden  was  lifted  from  her  shoulders, 
the  weary  ministry  here  ended  ;  and  shrouding  her  face  in  her 
arms,  the  lonely  woman  wept  bitterly. 


CHAPTER   XY. 

Four  years  had  wrought  material  changes  in  the  town  of 

W ;  new  streets  had  been  opened,  new  buildings  erected, 

new  forms  trod  the  side-walks,  new  faces  looked  out  of  shop-win- 
dows, and  flashing  equipages,  and  new  shafts  of  granite  and  mar- 
ble stood  in  the  cemetery  to  tell  of  many  who  had  been  gather- 
ed to  their  forefathers.  The  old  red  school-house,  where  two 
generations  had  been  tutored,  was  swept  away  to  make  place  for 
a  railroad  depot  ;  and,  instead  of  the  venerable  trees  that  once 
overshadowed  its  precincts,  bristling  walls  of  brick  and  mortar 
rang  with  the  shrill  whistle  of  the  engine,  or  the  sliarp  continual 
click  of  repairing-shops.  The  wild  shout,  the  rij)pling  laugli  of 
careless,  childish  glee  were  banished,  and  the  frolicsome  flock  of 
by-gone  years  had  grown  to  manhood  and  womanhood,  were  se- 
date busines  men  and  sober  matrons.     If  important  revolutions 


174  MACARIA  ;    OR, 

had  been  eifected  in  her  early  home,  not  less  decided  and  appa- 
rent was  the  change' which  had  taken  place  in  the  heiress  of 
Huntingdon  Hill  ;  and  having  been  eyed,  questioned,  scrutinized 
by  the  best  families,  and  laid  in  the  social  scale,  it  was  found  a 
difBcult  matter  to  determine  her  weight  as  accurately  as  seemed 
desirable.  In  common  parlance,  "  her  education  was  finished  " 
— she  was  regularly  and  unmistakably  "  out."  Everybody  has- 
tened to  inspect  her,  sound  her,  label  her  ;  mothers  to  compare 
her  with  their  own  daughters  ;  daughters  to  discover  how  much 
they  had  to  apprehend  in  the  charms  of  the  new  rival  ;  sons  to 
satisfy  themselves  with  regard  to  the  truth  of  the  rumors  con- 
cerning her  beauty  ;  all  with  curiosity  stamped  on  their  counte- 
nances ;  all  with  dubiety  written  there  at  the  conclusion  of  their 
visit.  Perfectly  self-possessed,  studiedly  polite,  attentive  to  all 
the  punctilios  of  etiquette,  polished  and  irreproachable  in  de- 
portment, but  cold,  reticent,  grave,  indulging  in  no  familiarities, 
and  allowing  none  ;  fascinating  by  her  extraordinary  beauty  and 
grace,  but  tacitly  impressing  upon  all,  "  Thus  far,  and  no  far- 
ther." Having  lost  her  aunt  two  years  before  her  return,  the 
duties  of  hostess  devolved  upon  her,  and  she  dispensed  the  hos- 
pitalities of  her  home  with  an  easy  though  stately  elegance,  sur- 
prising in  one  so  inexperienced.  Xo  positive  charge  could  be 
preferred  against  her  by  the  inquisitorial  circle  ;  even  Mrs.  Judge 
Harris,  the  self-constituted,  but  universally  acknowledged,  auto- 
crat of  beau  monde  in  W ,  accorded  her  a  species  of  negative 

excellence,  and  confessed  herself  baffled,  and  unable  to  pronounce 
a  verdict.  An  enigma  to  her  own  father,  it  was  not  wonderful 
that  strangers  knit  their  brows  in  striving  to  analyze  her  charac- 
ter, and  ere  long  the  cooing  of  carrier-pigeons  became  audible  : 
"  Her  mother  had  been  very  eccentric  ;  even  before  her  death  it 
was  whispered  that  insanity  hung  threateningly  over  her  ;  strange 
things  were  told  of  her,  and,  doubtless,  Irene  inherited  her  pecu- 
liarities." Nature  furnishes  some  seed  with  downy  wings  to  in- 
sure distribution,  and  envy,  and  malice,  and  probably  very  inno- 
cent and  mild-intentioned  gossip,  soon  provided  this  report  with 
remarkable  facilities  for  progress.  It  chanced  that  Dr.  Arnold 
was  absent  for  some  weeks  after  her  arrival,  and  no  sooner  had 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFTCF.  175 

lie  rotunied  than  he  sought  his  quondam  protege.  Entering  rni- 
announced,  he  paused  suddenly  as  lie  caught  sight  of  her  stand- 
ing before  the  fire,  with  Paragon  at  her  feet.  She  lifted  lier 
head  and  came  to  meet  him,  holding  out  both  hands,  with  a 
warm,  bright  smile. 

"  Oh,  Dr.  Arnold  I  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you  once  more.  It 
was  neither  friendly  nor  hospitable  to  go  off  just  as  I  canie 
home,  after  long  years  of  absence.  I  am  very  glad  to  see 
you.'' 

He  held  her  hands  and  gazed  at  her  like  one  in  a  dream  of 
mingled  pain  and  pleasure,  and  when  he  spoke  his  voice  was 
unsteady. 

"  You  can  not  possibly  be  as  glad  to  see  me  as  I  am  to  have 

you  back.    But  I  can't  realize  that  this  is,  indeed,  you  my  pet 

the  Irene  I  parted  with  rather  more  than  four  years  ago.  Child, 
what  is  it  ?  What  have  you  done  to  yourself?  I  called  you 
queen  in  your  infancy,  when  you  clung  to  my  finger  and  tottered 
across  the  floor  to  creep  into  my  arms,  but  ten-fold  more  appro- 
priate does  the  title  seem  now.  You  are  not  the  same  Irene 
who  used  to  toil  up  my  office  steps,  and  climb  upon  the  tallest 
chair  to  examine  the  skeletons  in  my  case — the  snakes  and  liz- 
ards in  my  jars.  Oh,  child  !  what  a  marvellous,  what  a  glorious 
beauty  you  have  grown  to  be." 

"  Take  care  ;  you  will,  spoil  her,  Arnold.  Don't  you  know, 
you  old  cynic,  that  women  can't  stand  such  flattery  as  yours  ?" 
laughed  Mr.  Huntingdon. 

"  I  am  glad  you  like  me.  Doctor  ;  lam  glad  you  think  I  have 
improved  ;  and  since  you  think  so,  I  am  obliged  to  you  for  ex- 
pressing your  opinion  of  me  so  kindly.  I  wish  I  could  return 
your  compliments,  but  my  conscience  vetoes  any  such  proceed- 
ing. You  look  jaded— over-worked.  What  is  the  reason  tliat 
you  have  grown  so  gray  and  haggard  ?  We  will  enter  into  a 
compact  to  renew  the  old  life  ;  you  shall  treat  me  exactly  as 
you  used  to  do,  and  I  shall  come  to  you  as  formerly,  and  inter- 
rupt labors  that  seem  too  heavy.  Sit  down  and  talk  to  me.  I 
want  to  hear  your  voice  ;  it  is  pleasant  to  my  ears,  makes  music 
in  my  heart,  calls  up  the  by-gone.     You  have  adopted  a  stick  in 


176  MACARIA  ;    OK, 

my  absence  ;  I  don't  like  the  innovation  ;  it  hurts  me  to  think  that 
you  need  it.  I  must  take  care  of  you,  I  see,  and  persuade^  you 
to  relinquish  it  entirely." 

**  Arnold,  I  verily  believe  she  was  more  anxious  to  see  you 
than  everybody  else  in  W except  old  Nellie,  her  nurse." 

She  did  not  contradict  him,  and  the  three  sat  conversing  for 
riore  than  an  hour  ;  then  other  visitors  came  in,  and  she  with- 
drew to  the  parlor.  *  The  doctor  had  examined  her  closely  all 
the  while  ;  had  noted  every  word,  action,  expression  ;  and  a 
troubled,  abstracted  look  came  into  his  face  when  she  left  them. 

"  Huntingdon,  what  is  it  ?     What  is  it  ?" 

**  What  is  what  ?     I  don't  understand  you." 

"  What  has  so  changed  that  child  ?  I  want  to  know  what 
ails  her  ?" 

*'  Nothing,  that  I  know  of.  You  know  that  she  was  always 
rather  singular." 

"  Yes,  but  it  was  a  different  sort  of  singularity.  She  is  too 
still,  and  white,  and  cold,  and  stately.  I  told  you  it  was  a 
wretched  piece  of  business  to  send  a  nature  like  hers,  so  difTerent 
from  everybody's  else,  off  among  utter  strangers  ;  to  shut  up  that 
queer,  free,  untamed  thing  in  a  boarding-school  for  four  years, 
with  hundreds  of  miles  between  her  and  the  few  things  she 
loved.  She  required  very  peculiar  and  skilful  treatment,  and, 
-instead,  you  put  her  off  where  she  petrified  I  I  knew  it  would 
never  answer,  and  I  told  you  so.  You  wanted  to  break  her  ob- 
stinacy, did  you  ?  She  comes  back  marble.  I  tell  you  now  I 
know  her  better  than  you  do,  though  you  are  her  father,  and 
you  may  as  well  give  up  at  once  that  chronic  hallucination  of 
'  ruling,  conquering  her.'  She  is  like  steel — cold,  firm,  brittle  ;  she 
will  break  ;  snap  asunder  ;  but  bend  ! — never  !  never  !  Hunting- 
don, I  love  that  child  ;  I  have  a  right  to  love  her  ;  she  has  been 
very  dear  to  me  from  her  babyhood,  and  it  would  go  hard  with 
me  to  know  that  any  sorrow  darkened  her  life.  Don't  allow 
your  old  plans  and  views  to  influence  you  now.  Let  Irene  be 
happy  in  her  own  way.  Did  you  ever  see  a  contented-looking 
eagle  in  a  gilt  cage  ?  Did  you  ever  know  a  leopardess  kept  in 
a  paddock,  and  taught  to  forget  her  native  jungles  ?" 


.    ^ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  177 

Mr.  Iluntiiigdon  moved  uneasily,  pondering  the  unpalatable 
advice. 

"  YoQ   certainly  don't  mean  to  say  that  she  has  inherited 

."     He  crushed  back  the  words  ;  could  he  crush  the  aj)- 

prehension,  too  ? 

"  I  mean  to  say  that,  if  she  were  my  child,  1  would  be  guided 
by  her,  instead  of  striving  to  cut  her  character  to  fit  the  totally 
different  pattern  of  my  own." 

He  put  on  his  hat,  thrust  his  hands  into  his  pockets,  stood  for 
some  seconds  frowning  so  heavily  that  the  shaggy  eyebrows  met 
and  partially  concealed  the  cavernous  eyes,  then  nodded  to  the 
master  of  the  house,  and  sought  his  buggy.  From  that  day 
Irene  was  conscious  of  a  keener  and  more  constant  scrutiny  on 
her  father's  part— a  ceaseless  surveillance^  silent,  but  rigid — that 
soon  grew  intolerable.  No  matter  how  she  employed  her  time, 
or  whither  she  went,  he  seemed  thoroughly  cognizant  of  the  de- 
tails of  her  life  ;  and  where  she  least  expected  interruption  or 
dictation,  his  hand,  firm  though  gentle,  pointed  the  way,  and  his 
voice  calmly  but  inflexibly  directed.  Her  aifection  had  been  in 
no  degree  alienated  by  their  long  separation,  and,  through  its 
sway,  she  submitted  for  a  time  ;  but  Huntingdon  blood  ill 
brooked  restraint,  and,  ere  long,  hers  became  feverish,  necessi- 
tating release.  As  in  all  tyrannical  natures,  his  exactions  grew 
upon  her  compliance.  She  was  allowed  no  margin  for  the  exer- 
cise of  judgment  or  inclination  ;  her  associates  were  selected, 
thrust  upon  her  ;  her  occupations  decided  without  reference  to 
her  wishes.  From  the  heartless,  frivolous  routine  marked  out, 
she  shrank  in  disgust  ;  and,  painful  as  was  the  alternative,  she 
prepared  for  the  clash  which  soon  became  inevitable.  He  wished 
her  to  be  happy,  but  in  his  own  way,  in  accordance  with  his 
views  and  aims,  and,  kiiowing  the  utter  antagonism  of  taste  and 
feeling  which  unfortunately  existed,  she  detennined  to  resist, 
(loverned  less  by  impulse  than  sober  second  thought  and  sound 
re'iisoning,  it  was  not  until  after  long  and  patient  deliberation 
that  she  finally  resolved  upon  her  future  course,  and  steadily 
maintained  it.  She  felt  most  keenly  that  it  was  a  painful,  a  la- 
mentable resolution,  but  none  the  less  a  necessity  ;  and,  having 

8* 


178  MAC  ARIA  ;    OR, 

ouce  determined,  she  went  forward  with  a  fixedness  of  purpose 
characteristic  of  her  family.  It  was  the  beginning  of  a  life-long 
contest,  and,  ta  one  who  understood  Leonard  Huntingdon's  dis- 
position, offered  a  dreary  prospect. 

From  verbal  differences  she  habitually  abstained  ;  opinions 
which  she  knew  to  be  disagreeable  to  him  she  carefully  avoided 
giving  expression  to  in  his  presence  ;  and,  while  always  studiously 
•thoughtful  of  his  comfort,  she  preserved  a  respectful  deportment, 
allowing  herself  no  hasty  or  defiant  words.  Fond  of  pomp  and 
ceremony,  and  imbued  with  certain  aristocratic  notions,  which  an 
ample  fortune  had  always  permitted  him  to  indulge,  Mr.  Hunt- 
ingdon entertained  company  in  princely  style,  and  whenever  an 
opportunity  offered.  His  dinners,  suppers,  and  card-parties  were 
known  far  and  wide,  and  Huntingdon  Hill  became  proverbial  for 
hospitality  throughout  the  state.  Strangers  were  feted,  and  it 
was  a  rare  occurrence  for  father  and  daughter  to  dine  quietly  to- 
gether. Fortunately  for  Irene,  the  servants  were  admirably 
trained  ;  and  though  this  round  of  company  imposed  a  weight  of 
responsibilities  oppressive  to  one  so  inexperienced,  she  applied 
herself  diligently  to  domestic  economy,  and  soon  became  familiar- 
ized with  its  details.  Her  father  had  been  very  anxious  to  provide 
her  with  a  skilful  housekeeper,  to  relieve  her  of  the  care  and 
tedious  minutia  of  such  matters  ;  but  she  refused  to  accept  one, 
avowing  her  belief  that  it  was  the  imperative  duty  of  every 
woman  to  superintend  and  inspect  the  management  of  her  domes- 
tic affairs.  Consequently,  from  the  first  week  of  her  return,  she 
made  it  a  rule  to  spend  an  hour  after  breakfast  in  her  dining-room 
pantry,  determining  and  arranging  the  details  of  the  day. 

The  situation  of  the  house  commanded  an  extensive  and  beau- 
tiful prospect,  and  the  ancient  trees  that  over-shadowed  it  im- 
parted a  venerable  and  imposing  aspect;  The  building  was  of 
brick,  overcast  to  represent  granite,  and  along  three  sides  ran  a 
wide  gallery,  supported  by  lofty,  circular  pillars,  crowned  with 
unusually  heavy  capitals.  The  main  body  consisted  of  two 
stories,  with  a  hall  in  the  centre,  and  three  rooms  on  either  side; 
while  two  long  single-storied  wings  stretched  out  right  and  left, 
one  a  billiard-room,  the  other  a  green-house. 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  179 

The  parlors  and  library  occupied  one  side,  the  first  opening 
into  tlie  -reen-house  ;  the  dining-room  and  smoking-room  were 
correspondingly   situated   to   the  billiard-saloon.     The  frescoed 
ceilings  were  too  low  to  suit  modern  ideas  ;  the  windows  were 
large,  and  nearly  square  ;    the  facings,  sills,  and  doors  all  of  ce- 
dar, dark  as  mahogany  with  age,  and  polished  as  rosewood.  The 
tall  mantle-pieces. were  of  fluted  Egyptian  black  marble  and 
along  the  freshly-tinted  walls  the  elaborate  arabesque  moulding 
or  cornice  hung  heavy  and  threatening.     A  broad  easy  fliHit  of 
white  marble  steps  led  up  to  the  richly-carved  front  door"^  with 
lis  massive  silver  knocker  bearing  the  name  of  Huntingdon  in  old- 
fashiened  Italian  characters  ;  and  in  the  arched  niches,  on  either 
&ide  of  this  door,  stood  two  statues,  brought  from  Europe  by 
Mr.    Huntingdon's   father,  and   supposed  to  represent  certain 
lioman  penatcs. 

From  the  hall  on  the  second  floor,  a  narrow,  spiral,  iron  stair- 
way ascended  to  a  circular  observatory  on  the  roof,  with  a  row 
of  small  columns  corresponding  with  those  below,  and  a  tessel- 
lated floor  of  alternating  white  and  variegated  squares  of  marble 
Originally  the  observatory  had  been  crowned  by  a  heavy,  patro- 
da-shaped  roof,  but  recently  this  had  been  removed  and  a'cov^er- 
ing  of  glass  substituted,  which,  like  that  of  hot-houses,  could  be 
raised  and  lowered  at  pleasure,  by  means  of  ropes  and  pulleys 
Two  generations  had  embellished  this  house,  and  the  modern 
wings  forming  the  cross  had  been  erected  within  Irene's  recollec- 
tion.    In  expectation  of  her  return,  an  entirely  new  set  of  furni- 
ture had  been  selected  in  Xew  York,  and  arraigned  some  weeks 
before  her  arrival-costly  carpets,  splendid  mirrors,  plush  and 
brocatel  sofas,  rich  china,  and  every  luxury  which  wealth  and 
fastidious  taste  could  supply.     The  grounds  in  front,  embracing 
several  acres,  were  enclosed  by  a  brick  wall,  and  at  the  foot  of 
the  hill,  at  the  entrance  of  the  long  avenue  of  elms,  stood  a  tall 
arched  iron  gate.     A  smoothly-shaven  terrace  of  Bermuda  grass 
ran  round  the  house,  and  the  broad  carriage-way  swept  up  to  a 
mound  opposite  the  door,  surmounted  by  the  bronze  figure  of  a 
crouching  dog.     On  one  side  of  the  avenue  a  beautiful  lawn, 
studded  with  clumps  of  trees,  extended  to  the  wall  ;  on  the  other,' 


18('  MACARIA  ;    OR, 

serpentine  walks,  bordered  with  low  hedges,  carved  flower-beds 
of  diverse  shapes  ;  and  here  delicate  trellis- work  supported  raro 
creepers,  and  airy,  elegant  arbors  and  summer-houses  were  over- 
grown with  vines  of  rank  luxuriance.  Everything  about  the 
•parterre,  from  the  well-swept  gravel  walks  to  the  carefully-clip- 
ped hedges,  betokened  constant  attention  and  lavish  expenditure. 
But  the  crowning  glory  of  the  place  was  its  wealth  of  trees — the 
ancient  avenue  of  mighty  elms,  arching  grandly  to  the  sky  like 
the  groined  nave  of  some  vast  cathedral  ;  the  circlet  of  sentinel 
poplars  towering  around  the  house,  and  old  as  its  foundations  ; 
the  long,  undulating  line  of  venerable  willows  waving  at  the  foot 
of  the  lawn,  over  the  sinuous  little  brook  that  rippled  onift  way 
to  the  creek  ;  and,  beyond  the  mansion,  clothing  the  sides  of  a 
steeper  hill,  a  sombre  back-ground  of  murmuring,  solemn,  imme- 
morial pines.  Such  was  Irene's  home — stately  and  elegant — 
kept  so  thoroughly  repaired  that,  in  its  cheerfulness,  its  age  was 
forgotten. 

The   society  of  W was   considered   remarkably  fiue. 

There  was  quite  an  aggregation  of  wealth  and  refinement ;  gen- 
tlemen, whose  plantations  were  situated  in  adjacent  counties,  re- 
sided here,  with  their  families  ;  some,  who  spent  tiieir  winters  on 
the  seaboard,  resorted  here  for  the  summer  ;  its  bar  was  said  to 
possess  more  talent  than  any  otlier  in  the  state  ;  its  schools 
claimed  to  be  unsurpassed  ;  it  boasted  of  a  concert-hall,  a  lyce- 
um,  a  handsome  court-house,  a  commodious,  well-built  jail,  and 
half-a-dozen  as  fine  churches,  as  any  country  town  could  desire. 
I  would  fain  avoid  the  term,  if  possible,  but  no  synonym  exists — 
W was,  indisputably,  an  "  aristocratic  "  place. 

Thus,  after  more  than  four  years'  absence,  the  summers  of 
which  had  been  spent  in  travel  among  the  beautiful  mountain 
scenery  of  the  Xorth,  the  young  heiress  returned  to  the  home  of 
her  childhood.  Standing  on  the  verge  of  nineteen,  she  put  the 
early  garlanded  years  behind  her  and  looked  into  the  solemn 
tempte  of  womanhood,  with  its  chequered  pavement  of  light  and 
siiadow  ;  its  storied  friezes,  gilded  architraves,  and  fretted 
shrines,  where  white-robed  bands  of  devotees  enter  with  uncer- 
tain step,  all  eager,  trembling  MystcB,  soon  to  become  clear-eyed, 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  181 

sad-eyed  Epoptns^  tlirougli  tlie  unerring,  mystical,  sacred  initia- 
tion of  the  only  true  liieropliant — Time. 

From  her  few  early  school  associates  she  had  become  cora- 
^  pletely  estranged  ;  and  the  renewal  of  their  acquaintance  now 
soon  convinced  her  that  the  utter  want  of  congeniality  in  char- 
acter and  habits  of  life  precluded  the  possibility  of  any  warm 
friendships  between  them.  For  several  months  after  her  return 
she  patiently,  hopefully,  faithfully  studied  the. dispositions  of  the 
members  of  various  families  with  whom  she  foresaw  that  she 
would  be  thrown,  by  her  father's  wishes,  into  intimate  relation- 
ship, and  satisfied  herself  that,  among  all  these,  there  was  not 
one,  save  Dr.  Arnold,  whose  counsel,  assistance,  or  sympathy  she 
felt  any  inclination  to  claim.  Human  nature  at  least  is,  beyond 
all  cavil,  cosmopolitan  in  its  characteristics,  (barring  a  few  eth- 
nologic limitations)  ;  and  a  given  number  of  men  and  women 
similarly  circumstanced  in  Chili,  England,  Madagascar,  Utah,  or 
Burmah  would,  doubtless,, yield  a  like  quota  of  moral  and  intel- 
lectual idiosyncrasies.     In  fiiie,  W was  not  in  any  respect 

peculiar,  or,  as  a  community,  spcciaTly  afflicted  with  heartless- 
ness,  frivolity,  brainlessness,  or  mammonism  ;  the  average  was 
fair,  reputable,  in  all  respects.  But,  incontrovertibly,  the  girl 
who  came  to  spend  her  life  among  these  people  was  totally  dis- 
similar in  criteria  of  action,  thought,  and  feeling.  To  the  stereo- 
typed conventional  standard  of  fashionable  hfe  she  had  never 
yielded  allegiance  ;  and  now  stood  (not  in  the  St.  Simon,  Fou- 
rier, Owen,  or  Leroux  sense)  a  social  free-thinker.  For  a  sea- 
son she  allowed  herself  to  be  whirled  on  by  the  current  of  din- 
ners, parties,  and  picnics  ;  but  soon  her  sedate,  contemplative 
temperament  revolted  from  the  irksome  round,  and  gradually  she 
outlined  and  pursued  a  diflferent  course,  giving  to  her  gay  qom- 
panions  just  what  courtesy  reauired,  no  more. 

Hugh  had  prolonged  his  stay  in  Europe  beyond  the  period 
originally  designated  ;  and,  instead  of  arriving  in  time  to  accom- 
pany his  uncle  and  cousin  home,  he  did  not  sail  for  some  months 
after  their  return.  At  length,  however,  letters  were  received 
announcing  his  presence  in  New  York,  and  fixing  the  day  when 
his  relatives  might  expect  him. 


182  MACAKIA  ;   OR, 


CHAPTER  XYI. 

The  carriage  had  been  despatched  to  the  depot,  a  servant 
stood  at  the  end  of  the  avenue  waiting  to  throw  open  the  gate, 
Mr.  Huntingdon  walked  up  and  down  the  wide  colonnade,  and 
Irene  sat  before  the  fire  in  her  own  room,  holding  in  one  palm 
the  flashiuo-  betrothal  rino*,  which  she  had  been  forced  to  wear 
siuce  her  return  from  New  York.  She  had  looked  into  the 
rooms  to  see  that  all  was  bright  and  cheerful,  had  looped  back 
the  curtains  in  the  apartment  prepared  for  Hugh,  had  filled  the 
vases  with  flowers  that  he  preferred  in  his  boyhood,  and  now 
listened  for  his  approach  with  complex  emotions.  The  sole  com- 
panion of  her  infancy,  she  would  have  hailed  his  arrival  with  un- 
mixed joy,  but  for  the  peculiar  relationship  in  which  she  now 
stood  to  him.  The  few  years  of  partial  peace  had  passed  ;  she 
knew  thi|t  the  hour  drew  near  when  the  long-dreaded  struggle 
must  begin,  and,  hopeless  of  averting  it,  quietly  waited  for  the 
storm  to  break.  Dropping  the  ring  in  her  jewelry  box,  she 
turned  the  key,  and  just  then  her  father's  voice  rang  through  the 
house. 

"  Irene  I  the  carriage  is  coming  up  the  avenue." 
She  went  slowly  down  stairs,  followed  by  Paragon,  and  joined 
her  fother  at  the  door.     His   searching  look  discovered  nothing 
in  the  serene  face  ;  the  carriage  stopped,  and  he  hastened  to  meet 
his  nephew. 

"  Come  at  last,  eh  !     Welcome  home,  my  dear  boy." 
The  young  man  turned  from  his  uncle,  sprang   up  the  steps, 
then  paused,  and  the  cousins  looked  at  each  other. 

"  Well,  Hugh  !  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you  once  more." 
She  held  out  her  hands,  and  he  saw  at  a  glance  that  her  fin- 
gers were  unfettered.     Seizing  them  warmly,  he  bent  forward, 
but  she  drew  back  coldly,  and  he  exclaimed  : 
"  Irene  !  I  claim  a  warmer  welcome." 

She  made  a  haughty,  repellent  gesture,  and  moved  forward  a 
few  steps,  to  greet  the  stranger  who  accompanied  him. 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  183 

"  My  daugliter,  this  is  your  nncle,  Eric  Mitchell,  who  has  not 
seen  you  since  you  were  a  baby." 

The  party  entered  the  house,  and,  seated  beside  him,  Irene 
gazed  witli  mingled  emotions  of  pain  and  pleasure  upon  her  mo- 
ther's only  brother.  He  was  about  thirty,  but  looked  older, 
from  life-long  suflfering  ;  had  used  crutches  from  the  time  he  was 
five  years  of  age,  having  been  hopelessly  crippled  by  a  fall  dur- 
ing his  infancy.  His  features  were  sharp,  his  cheeks  wore  tlie 
sallow  hue  of  habitual  ill  health,  and  his  fine  gray  eyes  were 
somewhat  sunken.  Resting  his  crutches  against  the  sofa,  he 
leaned  back,  and  looked  long  and  earnestly  at  his  niece.  Yery 
dimly  he  remembered  a  fair,  flaxen-haired  baby  whom  the  nurse 
had  held  out  to  be  kissed  when  he  was  sent  to  Philadelphia  to 
be  treated  for  his  lameness  ;  soon  after  he  heard  of  his  sister's 
death,  and  then  his  tutor  took  him  to  Europe,  to  command  the 
best  medical  advice  of  the  old  world. 

"  From  the  faint  recollection  which  I  have  of  your  mother, 
I  think  you  strongly  resemble  her,"  he  said,  at  last,  in  a  fond, 
gentle  tone. 

"I  don't  know  about  that,  Eric.  She  is  far  more  of  a 
Huntingdon  than  a  Mitchell.  She  has  many  of  the  traits  of 
your  family,  but  in  appearance  she  certainly  belongs  to  my 
side  of  the  house.  She  very  often  reminds  me  of  Hugh's  mo- 
ther. 

Conversation  turned  upon  the  misfortune  of  the  cripple  ;  he 
spoke  freely  of  the  unsuccessful  experiments  made  by  eminent 
physicians  ;  of  the  hopelessness  of  his  case  ;  and  Irene  was  par- 
ticularly impressed  by  the  calmness  and  patience  with  which  he 
seemed  to  have  resigned  himself  to  this  great  affliction.  She 
could  detect  no  trace  of  complaining  bitterness,  or,  what  was 
still  more  to  be  deplored,  the  irritable,  nervous  querulousness  so. 
often  observed  in  persons  of  his  situation.  She  found  him  a 
ripe  scholar,  a  profound  archaeologist,  and  philosophic  observer 
of  his  age  and  generation  ;  and  deeply  interested  in  his  quiet,^ 
low-toned  talk,  she  felt  irresistibly  drawn  toward  him,  careless  of 
passing  hours  and  of  Hugh's  ill-concealed  impatience  of  manner. 
As  they  rose  from  the  tea-table  her  cousin  said  laughingly  : 


184:  MAC  ART  A 


"  I  protest  against  monopoly.  I  have  not  been  able  to  say 
three  words  to  my  lady-cousin." 

"I  yield  the  floor  from  necessity.  My  long*  journey  has  un- 
fitted me  for  this  evening,  and  I  must  bid  you  all  an  early  good- 
night.** 

"  Can  I  do  anything  for  you,  uncle  ?" 

"  No,  thank  you,  Irene  ;  I  have  a  servant  who  thoroughly 
understands  taking  care  of  me.  Go  talk  to  Hugli,  who  has  been 
wishing  me  among  the  antipodes." 

He  shook  hands  with  her,  smiled  kindly,  and  Mr.  Huntingdon 
assisted  him  to  his  room. 

"  Irene,  come  into  the  library  and  let  me  have  a  cigar." 

"  How  tenacious  your  bad  habits  are,  Hugh." 

"  Smoking  belongs  to  no  such  category.  My  habits  are  cer- 
tainly quite  as  tenacious  as  my  cousin's  antipathies." 

He  selected  a  cigar,  lighted  it,  and  drawing  a  chair  near  hers, 
threw  himself  into  it  with  an  expression  of  great  satisfaction. 
"It  is  delightful  to  get  back  home,  and  see  you  again,  Irene. 
I  felt  some  regret  at  quitting  Paris,  but  the  sight  of  your  face 
more  than  compensates  me." 

She  was  looking  very  earnestly  at  him,  noting  the  alteration 
in  his  appearance,  and  for  a  moment  his  eyes  drooped  before 
hers.  She  saw  that  the  years  had  been  spent,  not  in  study,  but 
in  a  giddy  round  of  pleasure  iind  dissipation,  yet  the  bright, 
frank,  genial  expression  of  boyhood  still  lingered,  and  she  could 
not  deny  that  he  had  grown  up  a  very  handsome  man.  She 
knew  that  he  was  capable  of  sudden,  spasmodic  impulses  of 
generosity,  but  saw  that  selfishness  remained  the  great  sub- 
stratum of  his  character,  and  her  keen  feeling  of  disappointment 
showed  her  now  how  much  she  had  hoped  to  find  him  changed 
in  this  respect. 

"  Irene,  I  had  a  right  to  expect  a  warmer  welcome  than  you 
deigned  to  give  me. 

"  Hugh,  remember  that  we  have  ceased  to  be  children.  When 
you  learn  to  regard  me  simply  as  your  cousin,  and  are  satisfied 
with  a  cousin's  welcome,  then,  and  not  until  then,  shall  you  re- 
ceive it.     Let  childish  whims  pass  with  the  years  that  have  se- 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  185 

parated  us  ;  rake  up  no  germs  of  contention  to  mar  this  first 
evening  of  your  return,  lie  reasonable,  and  now  tell  me  how 
3VU  have  employed  yourself  since  we  parted  ;  what  have  you 
seen  ?  what  iiave  you  gleaned  ?" 

He  flushed  angrily,  but  the  imperturbable  face  controlled 
him,  even  against  his  will,  and  mutteriiig  something  which  she 
thought  sounded  very  much  like  an  oath,  he  smoked  for  some 
seconds  in  silence.  Without  noticing  his  sullenness,  she  made 
some  enquiries  concerning  his  sojourn  in  Paris,  and  insensibly  he 
found  himself  drawn  into  a  narration  of  his  course  of  life.  She 
listened  with  apparent  interest,  making  occasional  good-humored 
comments,  and  bringing  him  back  to  the  subject  whenever  he 
attempted  a  detour  toward  the  topic  so  extremely  distasteful  to 
her. 

The  clock  struck  eleven  ;  she  rose  and  said  : 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Hugh,  for  keeping  you  up  so  late.  I 
ought  to  have  known  that  you  were  fatigued  by  railroad  travel, 
and  required  sleep.  You  know  the  way  to  your  room  ;  it  is  the 
same  you  occupied  before  you  went  to  college.  Good  night  ;  I 
hope  you  will  rest  well." 

She  held  out  her  hand  carelessly  ;  he  took  it  eagerly,  and 
holding  it  up  to  the  light  said,  in  a  disappointed  tone  : 

"  Irene,  where  is  my  ring  ?     Why  are  you  not  wearing  it  ?" 

"  It  is  in  my  jewelry  box.  As  I  gave  you  my  reasons  for 
not  wearing  it,  when  you  offered  it  to  me,  it  is  not  necessary  to 
repeat  them  now.  Good-night,  Hugh  ;  go  dream  of  something 
more  agreeable  than  our  old  childish  quarrels."  Slie  withdrew 
her  fingers  apd  left  him. 

As  she  entered  her  own  room  and  closed  the  door,  she  was 
surprised  to  find  her  nurse  sitting  before  the  fire,  with  her  chin 
in  her  hands,  and  her  keen  black  eyes  fixed  on  the  coals. 

"  Aunt  Nellie,  what  are  you  sitting  up  so  late  for  ?  You  will 
have  another  spell  of  rheumatism,  tramping  about  this  time  of 
night." 

"  I  have  been  to  see  Mass'  Eric,  blessed  lamb  that  he  always 
was,  and  always  will  be.  He  is  so  changed  I  never  would  have 
known  him  j  he  was  a  weak,  little  white-faced  cripple  when  I 


186  MACARIA  ;  OR, 

first  saw  him,  twenty  years  ago.  It  seems  like  there  is  a  curse 
on  your  family  anyhow,  both  sides.  They  died  off,  and  have 
been  killed  off,  on  your  mother's  side,  till  Mass'  Eric  is  the  oniy 
one  left  of  all  the  Mitchells,  and,  as  for  master's  family,  you  and 
Hugh  are  the  two  last.  You  know  some  families  run  out,  and 
3  don't  think  master  ought  to  try  to  overturn  the  Lord's  plans. 
Queen,  let  things  take  their  course." 

"  Who  has  put  all  this  into  your  head  ?" 

"  Nobody  put  it  into  my  head  !  I  should  like  to  know  where 
my  eyes  have  been  these  many  years  ?  I  haven't  been  so  near 
blind  all  my  life.  Don't  you  suppose  I  know  what  master  's 
been  after  since  you  were  eighteen  months  old  ?  Was  n't  1 
standing  by  the  bed  when  Hugh's  mother  died,  and  did  n't  I  hear 
master  promise  her  that,  when  you  were  grown,  you  and  Hugh 
should  marry  ?  Don't  I  know  how  your  poor  dying  mother  cried, 
and  wrung  her  hands,  and  said  '  Harm  would  come  of  it  all, 
and  she  hoped  you  would  die  while  you  were  a  baby  ?'  She 
bad  found  out  wliat  Huntingdon  temper  was.  Poor  blessed  sahit ! 
what  a  life  she  did  lead  between  Miss  Margaret  and  Miss  Isa- 
bella !  It  is  no  use  to  shut  your  eyes  to  it,  Queen.  You  might 
just  as  well  look  at  it  at  once.  It  is  a  sin  for  near  kin  like  you 
and  Hugh  to  marry,  and  you  ought  to  set  your  face  against  it. 
He  is  just  his  mother  over  again,  and  you  will  see  trouble,  as 
sure  as  your  name  is  Irene,  if  you  don't  take  a  stand.  Oh  ! 
they  are  managing  people  ?  and  the  Lord  have  mercy  on  folks 
they  don't  like,  for  it  is  n't  in  Huntingdon  blood  to  forgive  or  to 
forget  anything.  I  am  so  thankful  your  uncle  Eric  has  come,  he 
will  help  to  stand  between  you  and  trouble.  Ah  !  it  is  coming. 
Queen  !  it 's  coming  !  You  did  n^t  see  how  your  father  frowned 
when  you  would  n't  let  Hugh  kiss  you  ?  I  was  looking  through 
the  window  and  saw  it  all.  I  have  n't  had  one  hour's  peace 
since  I  dreamed  of  seeing  you  and  your  mother  together.  Oh, 
my  baby  !  my  baby  !  there  is  trouble  and  sorrow  thickening  for 
you  ;  I  know  it.     I  have  had  a  warning  of  it." 

She  inclined  her  head  on  one  side,  and  rocked  herself  to  and 
fro,  much  as  did  early  Pelasgic  Dodonides  in  announcing  oracu- 
cular  decrees. 


ALTARS   OF   SACRTFICK.  187 

"  You  need  not  grieve  about  it  ;  I  want  no  body  to  stand 
between  me  and  trouble.  Beside,  Nellie,  you  must  remember 
that,  in  all  my  father  does,  he  intends  and  desires  to  promote 
my  welfare,  and  make  me  happy." 

"  Did  he  send  you  off  to  that  boarding-school  for  your  hap- 
piness ?  You  were  very  happy  there,  wern't  you  ?  It  is  no  use 
to  try  to  blindfold  me  ;  I  have  lived  a  little  too  long.  Oh,  my 
baby  !  your  white,  white  face,  and  big  sorrowful  blue  eyes  fol- 
low me  day  and  night  !  I  knew  how  it  would  be  when  you  were 
born.  You  came  into  this  world  among  awful  signs  !  The  sun 
was  eclipsed  !  chickens  went  to  roost,  as  if  night  had  come  ; 
and  I  saw  stars  in  the  sky  at  two  o'clock  in  the  day  !  Oh  !  I 
thought,  sure  enough,  judgment  day  -had  come  at  last  ;  and 
when  they  put  you  in  my  arms  I  trembled^  so  I  could  hardly 
stand.     May  God  have  mercy  on  you.  Queen  !" 

She  shuddered  for  a  moment,  as  if  in  the  presence  of  some 
dread  evil,  and,  rising,  wrapped  her  shawl  about  her  shoulders 
and  left  the  room. 

Irene  looked  after  her  retreating  form,  smiling  at  the  super- 
stitious turn  her  thoughts  had  taken,  then  dismissing  the  subject, 
she  fell  asleep  thinking  of  her  uncle. 

A  week  passed,  varied  by  few  incidents  of  interest  ;  the  new- 
comers became  thoroughly  domesticated — the  old  routine  was 
re-established.  Hugh  seemed  gay  and  careless — hunting,  visit- 
ing, renewing  boyish  acquaintances,  and  whiling  away  the  time 
as  inclination  prompted.  He  had  had  a  long  conversation  with 
his  uncle,  and  the  result  was  that,  for  the  present,  no  allusion 
was  made  to  the  future.  In  Irene's  presence  the  subject  was 
temporarily  tabooed.  She  knew  that  the  project  was  not  relin- 
quished, Vas  only  veiled  till  a  convenient  season,  and,  giving  to 
the  momentary  lull  its  full  value,  she  acquiesced,  finding  in  Eric's 
society  enjoyment  and  resources  altogether  unexpected.  In- 
stinctively they  seemed  to  comprehend  each  other's  character, 
and  while  both  were  taciturn  and  undemonstrative,  a  warm 
affection  sprang  up  between  them. 

On    Sunday  morning,   as  the  family  group  sat  around  the 
breakfast-table  waiting  for  Hugh,  who  lingered,  as  usual,  over 


188  MAC  ART  A  ;   OR, 

his  second  cup  of  chocolate,  Mr.  Mitchell  suddenly  laid  down  the 
fork  with  which  he  had  been  describing  a  series  of  geometrical 
figures  on  the  fine  damask,  and  said  :  "  I  met  a  young  man  in 
Brussels  who  interested  me  extremely,  and  in  connection  with 
whom  I  venture  the  prediction  that,  if  he  lives,  he  will  occupy  a 
conspicuous  position  in  the  afi'airs  of  his  country.     He  is^  or 

was,  Secretary  of  Mr.  Campbell,  our  minister  to  ■ ,  and 

they  were  both  on  a  visit  to  Brussels  when  I  met  them.  His 
name  is  Aubrey,  and  he  told  me  that  he  lived  here.  His  talents 
are  of  the  first  order  ;  his  ambition  unbounded,  I  should  judge  ; 
and  his  patient,  laborious  application  certainly  surpasses  any- 
thing I  have  ever  seen.  It  happened  that  a  friend  of  mine,  from 
London,  was  prosecuting  certain  researches  among  the  MS. 
archives  at  Brussels,  and  here,  immersed  in  study,  he  says  he  found  . 
the  secretary,  who  completely  distanced  him  in  his  investigations, 
and  then,  with  unexpected  generosity,  placed  his  notes  at  my 
friend's  disposal.  His  industry  is  almost  incredible.  Con- 
versing with. Campbell  concerning  him,  I  learned  that  he  was  a 
protege  of  the  minister,  who  spoke  of  his  future  in  singularly 
sanguine  terms.  He  left  him  some  time  since  to  embark  in  the 
practice  of  law.     Do  you  know  him,  Huntingdon  ?" 

"  Xo,  sir  !  but  I  know  that  his  father  was  sentenced  to  the 
gallows,  and  only  saved  himself  from  it  by  cutting  his  miserable 
throat,  and  cheating  the  law." 

The  master  of  the  house  thrust  back  his  chair  violently,  crush- 
ing one  of  Paragon's  innocent  paws  as  he  crouched  on  the  carpet, 
and  overturning  a  glass  which  shivered  into  a  dozen  fragments 
at  his  feet. 

Irene  understood  thfe  scowl  on  his  brow,  but  only  she  pos- 
sessed the  clew,  and,  lazily  sipping  his  chocolate,  Hugh  added  : 
"  I  recollect  him  very  well  as  a  boy  ;  he  always  had  a  bookish  look, 
and  I  met  him  one  day  on  the  boulevard  at  Paris.  He  was 
talking  to  an  attache  of  the  American  Legation  as  I  came  up, 
and  took  no  more  notice  of  me  than  if  I  had  been  one  of  the 
paving-stones.  I  could  not  avoid  admiring  the  cool  sublimity  of 
his  manner,  and,  as  I  had  snubbed  him  at  school  long  ago,  I  p;it 
out  my  hand,  and  said  :  *  Howdy-do,  Aubrey  ;  pray,  when  did 


ALTx\R3    OF    SACRIFICP:.  ISO 

you  cross  tho  water  V  He  bowed  as  frigidly  as  Czar  Nicholas, 
and,  without  noticing  my  hand,  answered  :  *  Good-morning,  Mr. 
Seymour  ;  I  have  been  in  Europe  two  years,'  and  walked  on. 
The  day  after  I  got  home  I  met  him  going  up  the  court-house 
steps,  and  looked  him  full  in  the  face  ;  he  just  inclined  his  head, 
and  passed  me.  Confound  it  !  he  's  as  proud  as  if  he  had  found 
a  patent  of  nobility  in  digging  among  Belgic  archives." 

"  Nature  furnished  him  with  one,  many  years  since,"  replied 
Eric. 

"  Yes  ;  and  his  coat-of-arms  should  be  jack-ketch  and  a  gal- 
lows !"  sneered  Mr.  Huntingdon. 

Looking  at  his  watch,  he  said,  as  if  wishing  to  cut  the  con- 
Tersation  short : 

"  Irene,  if  you  intend  to  go  to  church  to-day,  it  is  time  that 
you  had  your  bonnet  on.  Hugh,  what  will  you  do  with  your- 
self ?     Go  with  Eric  and  your  cousin  ?" 

"  No,  I  rather  think  I  shall  stay  at  home  with  you.  After 
European  cathedrals,  our  American  churches  seem  excessively 
plain."  Irene  went  to  her  room,*  pondering  the  conversation. 
She  thought  it  remarkable  that,  as  long  as  she  had  been  at  home, 
she  had  never  seen  Russell,  even  on  the  street. 

Unlocking  her  writing-desk,  she  took  out  a  tiny  note  which 
had  accompanied  a  check  for  two  hundred  dollars,  and  had 
reached  her  a  few  months  before  she  left  boarding  school.  The 
firm,  round,  manly  hand  ran  as  follows  : 

"  With  gratitude  beyond  all  expression  for  the  favor  conferred 

on  my  mother  and  myself,  some  years  since,  I  now  return  to 

Miss  Huntingdon  the  money  which  I  have  ever  regarded  as  a 

friendly   loan.     Hoping   that   the  future  will  afford  me  some 

opportunity  of  proving  my  appreciation  of  her  great  kindness, 

"  I  remain,  most  respectfully, 

"  Her  obliged  friend, 

"  Russell  Aubrey. 
"  New  York,  September  5th J^ 

She  was  conscious  of  a  feeling  of  regret  that  the  money  had 
been  returned  ;  it  was  pleasant  to  reflect  on  the  fact  that  she 


190  MAC  ARIA  ;   OR, 

had  laid  him  under  obligation  ;  now  it  all  seemed  cancelled.  She 
relocked  the  desk,  and,  drawing  on  her  gloves,  joined  her  uncle 
at  the  carriage.  Her  father  accompanied  her  so  rarely  that  she 
scarcely  missed  him,  and  during  the  ride,  as  Eric  seemed  abstract- 
ed, she  leaned  back,  and  her  thoughts  once  more  reverted  to  the 
unfortunate  topic  of  the  breakfast-table.  Arriving  at  church 
later  than  was  her  wont,  she  found  the  family  pew  occupied  by 
strangers,  and  crossed  the  aisle  to  share  a  friend's,  but  at  that 
instant  a  tall  .form  rose  in  Mr.  Campbell's  long  vacant  pew,  step- 
ped into  the  aisle,  and  held  open  the  door.  She  drew  back  to 
suffer  her  uncle  to  limp  in  and  lay  aside  his  crutches,  saw  him 
give  his  hand  to  the  stranger,  and,  sweeping  her  veil  aside  as  she 
entered,  she  saw  Russell  quietly  resume  his  seat  at  the  end  of 
the  pew. 

Startled  beyond  measure,  she  looked  at  him  intently,  and  al- 
most wondered  that  she  recognized  him,  he  had  changed  so  ma- 
terially since  the  day  on  which  she  stood  with  him  before  his  mo- 
ther's gate.  Meantime  the  service  commenced,  she  gave  her 
hymn-book  to  her  uncle,  and  at  the  same  moment  Russell  found 
the  place,  and  handed  her  one  of  two  which  lay  near  him.  As 
she  received  it  their  eyes  met,  looked  fixedly  into  each  other,  and 
she  held  out  her  hand.  He  took  it,  she  felt  his  fingers  tremble 
as  they  dropped  hers,  and  then  both  faces  bent  over  the  books. 
When  they  knelt  side  by  side,  and  the  heavy  folds  of  her  elegant 
dress  swept  against  him,  it  seemed  a  feverish  dream  to  her  ;  she 
could  not  realize  that,  at  last,  they  had  met  again,  and  her  heart 
beat  so  fiercely  that  she  pressed  her  hand  upon  it,  dreading  lest 
he  should  hear  its  loud  pulsations.  Lowering  her  veil,  she  drew 
her  costly  velvet  drapery  about  her  and  leaned  back  :  and  the 
anthem  was  chanted,  the  solemn  organ-tones  hushed  themselves, 
the  minister  stood  up  in  the  pulpit,  and  his  dull  tones  fell  on  her 
ear  and  brain  meaningless  as  the  dry  patter  of  dying  leaves  in  an 
autumn  wind.  The  outline  of  that  tall,  broad-shouldered,  mag- 
nificently-turned figure,  replete  with  vigorous  muscular  strength  ; 
the  massive,  finely-formed  head,  easily,  gracefully  poised,  like  that 
of  a  statue  ;  above  all,  the "  olive-pale,  proud  face,  unshaded  by 
beard,  with  regular  features  sharply  yet  beautifully  cut,  like 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  191 

those  in  the  rare  gems  which  Benvenuto  CeUini  left  tlie  world, 
greeted  her  now,  turn  which  way  she  would.  The  coat  was  but- 
toned to  the  throat,  the  strong  arms  were  crossed  over  the  deep 
chest,  the  piercing  bhick  eyes  raised  and  fastened  on  the  pulpit. 
It  lias  been  well  said  :  "The  eyes  indicate  the  antiquity  of  the 
soul,  or  through  how  many  forms  it  has  already  ascended  "If  so, 
his  seemed  brimful  of  destiny,  and  ceons  old,  in  that  one  long  un- 
veiling look  which  they  had  exchanged  ;  deep,  sparkling,  a  nd  yet 
indescribably  melancholy,  something  in  the  expression  vividly  re- 
calling the  Beatrice  Ceuci  ;  then  all  analogy  was  baffled.  Elec- 
tra  knew  wherein  consisted  their  wonderful  charm,  and  because 
slie  put  these  eyes  on  canvas  connoisseurs  studied  and  a.pplaud- 
ed  her  work.  Now  face  and  figure,  cold  and  unrelenting,  stamp- 
ed themselves  on  Irene's  memory  las  indelibly  as  those  which  la- 
borious, patient  lapidaries  carve  on  coral  or  cornelian.  The  dis- 
course was  ended,  the  diapason  of  the  organ  swelled  through 
the  lofty  church,  priestly  hands  hovered  like  white  doves  over 
the  congregation,  dismissing  all  with  blessing.  Once  more  Irene 
swept  back  the  rich  lace  veil,  fully  exposing  her  face  ;  once  moi'e 
her  eyes  looked  into  those  of  the  man  who  politely  held  the  pew 
door  open  ;  both  bowed  with  stately  grace,  and  she  walked  down 
the  aisle.  She  heard  Russell  talking  to  her  uncle  just  behind  her, 
heard  the  inquiries  concerning  his  health,  the  expression  of  plea- 
sure  at  meeting  again,  the  hope  which  Eric  uttered  that  he 

should  see  him  frequently  during  his  stay  in  W .     Without 

even  a  glance  over  her  shoulder,  she  proceeded  to  the  carriage, 
where  her  uncle  soon  joined  her,  taking  the  front  seat  instead  of 
sharing  the  back  one,  as  is  customary.  He  scrutinized  his  niece's 
countenance,  but  it  baffled  him,  as  on  the  first  night  of  his  arri- 
val ;  the  serene,  colorless  face  showed  not  the  slightest  symptom 
of  emotion  of  any  kind.  Neither  spokd  till  they  approached  the 
cottage  on  the  road-side,  then  she  extended  her  hand  and  said, 
Lidifferently  : 

"  Your  European  acquaintance,  the  quondam  secretary,  for- 
merly lived  in  that  little  three-roomed  house  hid  among  the  vines 
yonder." 

"  When  I  spoke  of  him  this  morning,  you  did  not  mention  hav- 


192  MACAEIA  ;    OR, 

ing  known  him.  I  inferred  from  your  manner  that  he  was  a 
stranger  to  you." 

*'  He  is  a  stranger  now.  I  knew  him  long  ago,  when  we  were 
children,  and  met  him  to-day  for  the  first  time  in  some  years." 

"  There  is  something  peculiarly  commanding  in  his  appearance^ 
He  impresses  me  with  respect  and  involuntary  admiration,  such 
as  no  man  of  his  age  ever  excited  before,  and  I  have  traveled 
far  and  wide,  and  have  seen  the  lordliest  of  many  lands."    • 

"  Years  have  greatly  changed  him.  He  is  less  like  his  mo- 
ther than  when  I  knew  him  in  his  boyhood." 

"  He  is  an  orphan,  I  learned  from  Campbell." 

"  Yes." 

She  pulled  the  check-cord,  and,  as  the  driver  stopped,  she 
leaned  out  of  the  window,  pointing  to  a  mossy  tuft  on  the  mar- 
gin of  the  Uttle  brook  just  at  the  foot  of  the  hill. 

"  Andrew,  if  you  are  not  afraid  to  leave  your  horses,  get  me 
that  cluster  of  violets  just  this  side  of  the  sweet-gum  tree.  They 
are  the  very  earliest  I  have  seen." 

He  gathered  them  carefully  and  placed  them  in  the  daintily- 
gloved,  out-stretched  hand.  She  bent  over  them  an  instant,  then 
divided  the  tiny  bunch  with  her  uncle,  saying  : 

"  Spring  has  opened  its  blue  eyes  at  last." 

She  met  his  searching  gaze  as  calmly  as  the  flowerets,  and  as 
they  now  neared  the  house  he  forbore  any  further  allusion  to  the 
subject,  which  he  shrewdly  suspected  engaged  her  thoughts  quite 
as  fully  as  his  own. 


ch'apter  xyii. 

"  Irene,  it  is  past  midnight.^' 
She  gave  no  intimation  of  having  heard  hun. 
"  Irene,  my  child,  it  is  one  o'clock." 

Without  looking  up,  she  raised  her  hand  toward  the  clock  on 
the  mantel,  and  answered,  coldly  : 


ALTAKS    OF   SACRIFICE.  193 

"  You  need  not  sit  up  to  tell  me  the  time  of  night  ;  I  have  a 
clock  here.     Go  to  sleep,  uncle  iEric." 

He  rested  his  shoulder  against  the  door-facing,  and,  leaning  on 
his  crutches,  watched  her.  , 

She  sat  there  just  as  he  had  seen  her  several  times  before,  with 
hor  arms  crossed  on  the  table,  the  large  celestial  globe  drawn 
uear,  astronomical  catalogues  scattered  about,  and  a  thick  folio 
open  before  her.  She  wore  a  loose  wrapper,  or  robe  de  chambrc, 
of  black  velvet,  lined  with  crimson  silk  and  girded  with  a  heavy 
cord  and  tassel.  The  sleeves  were  very  full,  and  fell  away  from 
the  arms,  exposing  them  from  the  dimpled  elbows,  and  rendering 
their  pearly  whiteness  more  apparent  by  contrast  with  the  sable 
hue  of  the  vedvet,  while  the  broad  round  collar  was  pressed 
smoothly  down,  revealing  the  polished  turn  of  the  throat.  The 
ivory  comb  lay  on  the  table,  and  the  unbound  hair,  falling 
around  her  shoulders,  swept  over  the  back  of  her  chair  and 
trailed  on  the  carpet.  A  miracle  of  statuesque  beauty  was  his 
queenly  niece,  yet  he  could  not  look  at  her  without  a  vagne  feel- 
ing of  awe,  of  painful  apprehension  ;  and,  as  he  stood  watching 
her  motionless  figure,  in  its  grand  yet  graceful  ^;«5e,  he  sighed 
involuntarily.  She  rose,  shook  back  her  magnificent  hair,  and 
approached  him.  Her  eyes,  so  like  deep,  calm  azure  lakes, 
crossed  by  no  ripple,  met  his,  and  the  clear,  pure  voice  echoed 
through  the  still  room. 

"  Uncle  Eric,  I  wish  you  would  not  sit  up  on  my  account  ;  I 
do  not  like  to  be  watched." 

"  Irene,  your  father  forbade  your  studying  until  this  hour. 
You  will  accomplish  nothing  but  the  ruin  of  your  health." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?  Do  statistics  prove  astronomers 
short-lived  ?  Rather  the  contrary.  I  commend  you  to  the  con- 
templation of  their  longevity.  Good-night,  uncle  ;  starry  dreams 
to  you." 

"  Stay,  child  ;  what  object  have  you  in  view  in  all  this  labori- 
ous investigation  ?" 

"  Are  you  sceptical  of  the  possibility  of  a  devotion  to  science 
merely  for  science-sake  ?  Do  my  womanly  garments  shut  me 
out   of  the  Holy  of   Holies,   debar   me   eternally  from  sacred 

9 


194  macaria;  or, 

arcana,  think  you  ?     Uncle  Eric,  once  for  all,  it  is  not  my  aim 
to — 


-brush  ■witli  extreme  flounce 


The  circle  of  the  sciences." 

I  take  my  heart,  my  intellect,  my  life,  and  offer  all  upon  the  altar 
of  its  penetralia.  You  men  doubt  women's  credentials  for  work 
like  mine  ;  but  this  intellectual  bigotry  and  monopoly  already 
trembles  before  the  weight  of  stern  and  positive  results  which 
women  lay  before  you — data  for  your  speculations — alms  for 
your  calculation.  In  glorious  attestation  of  the  truth  of  female 
capacity  to  grapple  with  some  of  t":;e  most  recondite  problems  of 
science  stand  tlie  names  of  Caroline  Herschel,  Mary  Somerville, 
Maria  Mitchell,  Emma  Willard,  Mrs.  Phelps,  and  the  proud 
compliment  paid  to  Madame  Lepaute  by  Clairant  and  Lalaude, 
who,  at  the  successful  conclusion  of  their  gigantic  computations, 
declared  :  '  The  assistance  rendered  by  her  was  such  that,  with- 
out her,  we  never  should  have  dared  to  undertake  the  enormous 
labor  in  which  it  was  necessary  to  calculate  the  distance  of  each 
of  the  two  i^lanets,  Jupiter  and  Saturn,  from  the  comet,  separ- 
ately for  every  degree,  for  one  hundred  and  fifty  years.'  Uncle 
Eric,  remember — 

" ^Vhoso  cures  the  plague, 


Though  twice  a  vroman,  shall  be  called  a  leech; 

Who  rights  a  land's  finances,  is  excused 

For  touching  coppers,  though  her  hands  be  white." 

She  took  the  volume  she  had  been  reading,  selected  several 
catalogues  from  the  mass,  and,  lighting  a  small  lamp,  passed  her 
uncle  and  mounted  the  spiral  staircase  leading  to  the  observatory. 
He  watched  her  tall  form  slowly  ascending,  and,  in  the  flashing 
light  of  the  lamp  she  carried,  her  black  dress  and  floating  hair 
seemed  to  belong  to  some  veritable  Urania — some  ancient 
Egyptic  Berenice.  He  heard  her  open  the  glass  door  of  the  ob- 
servatory, then  the  flame  vanished,  and  the  click  of  the  lock  fell 
down  the  dark  stau'way  as  she  turned  the  key.  With  a  heavy 
sigh  the  cripple  returned  to  his  room,  there  to  ponder  the  singu- 
lar character  of  the  woman  whom  he  had  just  left,  and  to  dream 


ALTAKS    OF    SACKIFICE.  195 

that  he  saw  licr  transplanted  to  the  constellations,  her  blue  eyes 
brightening  into  stars,  lier  waving  hair  braiding  itself  out  into 
briUiant  rushing  comets.     The  night  was  keen,  still,  and  cbudless, 
and,  as  Irene  locked  herself  in,  the  chill  from  tlie  marble  tiles  crept 
through  the  carpet  to  her  slippered  feet.     In  the  centre  of  the 
apartment  rose  a  wooden  shaft  bearing  a  brass  plate,  and  to  this  a 
telescope  was  securely  fastened.     Two  chairs  and  an  old-fashioned 
oaken  table,  with  curious  carved  legs,  comprised  the  furniture. 
She  looked  at  the  small  side-rial  clock,  and  finding  that  a  quar- 
ter of  an  hour  must  elapse  before  she  could  make  the  desired  ol> 
servation,  drew  a  chair  to  the  table  and  seated  herself.     She 
took  from  the  drawer  a  number  of  loose  papers,  and  prepared 
the  blank  book  for  registering  the  observation  ;  then  laid  before 
her  a  slate  covered  with  figures,  and  began  to  run  over  the  cal- 
culation.    At  the  close  of  fifteen  minutes  she  placed  herself  at 
the  telescope,  and  waited  patiently  for  the  appearance  of  ^  small 
star  which  gradually  entered  the  field  ;  she  noted  the  exact  mo- 
ment and  position,  transferred  the  result  to  the  register,  and  after 
a  time  went  back  to  the  slate  and  figures.     Cautiously  she  went 
over  the  work,  now  and  then  having  recourse  to  pen  and  paper  ; 
she  reached  the  bottom  of  the  slate  and  turned  it  over,  moving 
one  finger  along  the  lines.     The  solution  was  wrong  ;  a  mistake 
had  been  made  somewhere  ;  she  pressed  her  palm  on  her  fore- 
head, and  thought  over  the  whole  question  ;  then  began  again. 
The  work  was  tedious,  the  calculation  subtle,  and  she  attached 
great  importance  to  the  result  ;  the  second  examination  was 
fruitless  as  the  first  ;  time  was  wearing  away  ;  where  could  the 
error  be  ?     Without  hesitation  she  turned  back  for  the  third 
time,  and  commenced  at  the  first,  slowly,  patiently  threading  the 
maze.     Suddenly  she  paused  and  smiled  ;  there  was  the  mistake, 
glaring  enough,  now.     She  corrected  it,  and  working  the  sum 
through,  found  the  result  perfectly  accurate,  according  fully  with 
the  tables  of  Leverrier  by  which  she  was  computing.     She  care- 
fully transferred  the  operation  from  slate  to  paper,  and,  after 
numbering  the  problem  with  great  particularity,  placed  all  in  the^ 
drawer,  and  turned  the  key.     It  was  three  o'clock  ;  she  opened 
the  door,  drew  her  chair  out  on  the  little  gallery,  and  sat  down, 


196  macaria;  or, 

looking  toward  the  east.     The  air  was  crisp  but  still,  unswayed 
by  current  waifs  ;  no  sound  swept  its  crystal  waves  save  the  low, 
monotonous  distant  thunder  of  the  falls,  and  the  deep,  cloudless 
blue  ocean  of  space  glowed  with  its  numberless  argosies  of  stel- 
lar worlds.     Constellations  which,  in  the  purple  twilight,  stood 
sentinel  at  the  horizon,  had  marched  in  majesty  to  mid-heaven, 
taken  reconnoisance  thence,  and  as  solemnly  passed  the  opposite 
horizon  to   report  to  watching  gazers  in   another  hemisphere. 
*'  Scouts  stood  upon  every  headland,  on  every  plain  ;"  merciless- 
ly the  inquisitorial  eye  of  science  followed  the  heavenly  wander- 
ers ;  there  was  no  escape  from  the  eager,  sleepless  police  who 
kept  vigil  in  every  clime  and  country  ;  as  well  call  on  Bootes  to 
give  o'er  his  care  of  Ursa-Major,  as  hopelessly  attempt  to  thrust 
him  from  tlie  ken  of  Cynosura.     From  her  earliest  recollection, 
and  especially  from  the  hour  of  entering  school,  astronomy  and 
mathematics  had  exerted  an  over-mastering  influence  upon  Irene's 
mind.     Tiie  ordinary  text-books  only  increased  her  interest  in 
the  former  science,  and  while  in  New  York,  with  the  aid  of  the 
professor  of  astronomy,  she  had  possessed  herself  of  all  the  most 
eminent  works  bearing  upon  the  subject,  sending  across  the  At- 
lantic for  tables  and  selenographic  charts,  which  were  not  to  be 
procured  in  America. 

Under  singularly  favorable  auspices  she  had  pursued  her  stu- 
dies perseveringly,  methodically,  and,  despite  her  father's  prohi- 
bition, indefatigably.  He  had  indulged,  in  earlier  years,  a  pen- 
chant for  the  same  science,  and  cheerfully  facilitated  her  progress 
by  rearranging  the  observatory  so  as  to  allow  full  play  for  her 
fine  telescope  ;  but,  though  proud  of  her  proficiency,  he  objected 
most  strenuously  to  her  devoting  so  large  a  share  of  her  time 
and  attention  to  this  study,  and  had  positively  interdicted  all  ob- 
servations after  twelve  o'clock.  Most  girls  patronize  certain 
branches  of  investigation  with  fitful,  spasmodic  vehemence,  or 
periodic  impulses  of  enthusiasm  ;  but  Irene  knew  no  intermission 
of  interest,  she  hurried  over  no  details,  and,  when  the  weather 
permitted,  never  failed  to  make  her  nightly  visit  to  the  observa- 
tory. She  loved  her  work  as  a  painter  his  canvas,  or  the  sculp- 
tor the  marble  one  day  to  enshrine  his  cherished  ideal ;  and  she 


AJ.TARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  197 

prosecuted  it,  not  as  a  mere  pastime,  not  as  a  toy,  but  as  a  life- 
long labor,  for  the  labor's  sake.  To-iiight,  as  her  drooping 
palms  nestled  to  each  other,  ajid  her  eyes  searched  the  vast  jew- 
elled dome  above,  thought,  unwearied  as  the  theme  it  pondered, 
flew  back  to  the  dim  gray  dawn  of  Time,  "When  the  morning- 
stars  sang  together,  and  all  the  sons  of  Go'd  shouted  for  joy." 
In  panoramic  vision  she  crossed  the  dusty  desert  of  centuries, 
and  watched  with  Chaldean  shepherds  the  pale,  sickly  light  of 
waning  moons  on  Shinar's  plains  ;  welcomed  the  gnomon  (first- 
born of  the  great  family  of  astronomic  apparatus)  ;  toiled  over 
and  gloried  in  the  Zaros  ;  stood  at  the  armillary  sphere  of  Ju, 
in  the  days  of  Confucius  ;  studied  with  Thales,  Anaximander,  and 
Pythagoras  ;  entered  the  sacred  precincts  of  the  school  of  Cro- 
tona,  hand  in  hand  with  Damo,  the  earliest  woman  who  bowed 
a  devotee  at  the  starry  shrine,  and,  with  her,  was  initiated  into 
its  esoteric  doctrines  ;  puzzled  with  Meton  over  his  lunar  cycle  ; 
exulted  in  Hipparchus'  gigantic  labor,  the  first  collection  of  ta- 
bles, the  earliest  reliable  catalogues  ;  walked  through  the  Alex- 
andrine school  of  savans,  misled  by  Ptolemy  ;  and  bent  with 
Uliegh  Beigh  over  the  charts  at  Samarcand.  In  imagination 
she  accompanied  Copernicus  and  Tycho-Brahe,  and  wrestled  with 
Kepler  in  the  Titanic  struggle  that  ended  in  the  discovery  of  the 
magnificent  trinity  of  astronomic  laws  framed  by  the  Divine 
Architect  when  the  first  star  threw  its  faint  shimmer  through  the 
silent  wastes  of  space.  Kepler's  three  laws  were  an  unceasing 
wonder  and  joy  to  her,  and  with  fond,  womanly  pride  she  was 
wont  to  recur  to  a  lonely  observatory  in  Silesia,  where,  before 
Newton  rose  upon  the  world,  one  of  her  own  sex,  Maria  Cunitz, 
launched  upon  the  stormy  sea  of  scientific  literature  the  ''  Ura- 
nia FropitiaP  The  Congress  of  Lilienthal  possessed  far  more 
of  interest  to  her  than  any  which  ever  sat  in  august  council  over 
the  fate  of  nations,  and  the  names  of  Herschel,  Bessel,  Argelan- 
der,  Struve,  Arago,  Leverrier,  and  Maedler  were  sacred  as  Per- 
sian telefin.  From  the  "Almagest"  of  Ptolemy,  and  the  "  Co- 
metographie  of  Pingre,"  to  the  "  Mecanique  Celeste,"  she  had 
searched  and  toiled  ;  and  now  the  sublime  and  almost  bewilder- 
ing speculations  of  Maedler  held  her  spell-bound.     The  delicate, 


198  MACARIA  ;    OR, 

subtle,  beautiful  problem  of  parallax  had  heretofore  exerted  the 
strongest  fascination  over  her  ;  but  this  magnificent  hypothesis 
of  a  "  central  sun/'  from  the  monarch  of  computations  at  Dor- 
pat,  seized  upon  her  imagination  with  painful  tenacity.  From 
the  hour  when  Kepler  stretched  out  his  curious  fingers,  feeling 
for  the'  shape  of  planetary  orbits,  or  Leverrier  groped  through 
abysses  of  darkness  for  the  unknown  Neptuna,  which  a  sceptical 
world  declared  existed  only  in  his  mathematical  calculations,  no 
such  daring  or  stupendous  speculation  had  been  breathed  as  this 
which  Maedler  threw  down  from  his  Russian  observatory.  Night 
after  night  she  gazed  upon  the  pleiades,  singling  out  Alcyone, 
the  brilliant  central  sun  of  the  mighty  astral  system,  whose  light 
met  her  eager  eyes  after  the  long  travel  of  five  hundred  and  thir- 
ty-seven years  ;  and,  following  in  the  footsteps  of  the  great 
speculator,  she  tried  to  grasp  the  result,  that  the  period  of  one 
revolution  of  our  sun  and  system  around  that  glittering  centre 
was  eighteen  million  two  hundred  thousand  years. 

The  stony  lips  of  geology  asserted  that  our  globe  was  growing 
old,  thousands  of  generations  had  fallen  f\sleep  in  the  bosom  of 
mother  earth,  the  ashes  of  centuries  had  gathered  upon  the  past, 
were  creeping  over  the  present  ;  and  yet,  in  the  face  of  cata- 
combs, and  mummies,  and  mouldering  monuments,  chiseled  in  the 
infancy  of  the  human  race,  mathematics  unrolled  her  figured 
scroll,  and  proclaimed  that  Time  had  but  begun  ;  that  chiliasms 
must  elapse,  that  aeons  on  iKons  must  roll  away,  before  the  firet 
revolution  of  the  starry  universe  could  be  completed  about  its 
far-off  Alcyone  centre.  What  mattered  human  labors,  what 
need  of  trophies  of  genius,  of  national  grandeur,  or  individual 
glory  ?  Eighteen  millions  of  years  would  level  all  in  one  huge, 
common,  shapeless  ruin.  In  comparison  with  the  mighty 
mechanism  of  the  astral  system,  the  solar  seemed  a  mere  tiny 
cluster  of  jewels  set  in  some  infinite  abyss  ;  the  sun  shrank  into 
insignficance,  the  moon  waned,  the  planets  became  little  gleam- 
ing points  of  light,  such  as  her  diamond  ring  threw  off  when  lield 
under  gas-chandeliers.  Perish  the  microcosm  in  the  limitless 
macrocosm,  and  sink  the  feeble  earthly  segregate  in  the  bound- 
less, rushing,  choral  aggregation  !     She  was  oppressed  by  the 


ALTARS    OF   BACRIFICK.  199 

stupendous  nature  of  the  problem  ;  Iiumau  reason  and  imagina- 
tion reeled  under  the  rastness  of  the  subject  which  they  essayed 
to  contemplate  and  measure  ;  and  to-night  as  she  pondered  in 
silent  awe  the  gigantic,  overwhelming  laws  of  God's  great  Cos- 
mos,  by  some  subtle  association  there  flashed  upon  her  memory 
the  sybillic  inscription  on  the  Temple  of  Neith  at  Sais  :  "  I  am  all 
that  has  been,  all  that  is,  all  that  will  be.  Xo  mortal  has  ever  rais- 
ed the  veil  which  conceals  me  ;  and  the  fruit  I  have  produced  is 
the  sun."  Had  Maedler,  with  telescopic  insight,  climbed  by 
mathematical  ladders  to  the  starry  adyta  of  nature,  and  triumph- 
antly raised  the  mystic  veil  ?  With  a  feeling  of  adoration  which 
no  language  could  adequately  convey,  she  gazed  upon  nebulae, 
and  suns,  and  systems  ;  and  with  the  solemn  reflection  that  some, 
like  Cassiopeia's  lost  jewel,  might  be  perishing,  wrapped  in  the 
last  conflagration,  while  their  light  still  journeyed  to  her,  she 
recalled  the  feverish  yet  sublime  vision  of  the  great  German 
dreamer  :  "  Once  we  issued  suddenly  from  the  middle  of  thickest 
night  into  an  aurora  borealis — the  herald  of  an  expiring  world — 
and  we  found  throughout  this  cycle  of  solar  systems,  that  a  day 
of  judgment  had  indeed  arrived.  The  suns  had  sickened,  and 
the  planets  were  heaving,  rocking,  yawning  in  convulsions  ;  the 
subterraneous  waters  of  the  great  deeps  were  breaking  up,  and 
lightnings  that  were  ten  diameters  of  a  world  in  length  ran  along 
from  zenith  to  nadir  ;  and,  here  and  there,  where  a  sun  should  have 
been,  we  saw,  instead,  througli  the  misty  vapor,  a  gloomy,  ashy- 
leaden  corpse  of  a  solar  body,  that  sucked  in  flames  from  the 

perishing  world,  but  gave  out  neither  light  nor  heat 

Then  came  eternities  of  twilight  that  revealed  but  were  not 
revealed  ;  on  the  right  hand  and  on  the  left  towered  mighty 
constellations,  that  by  self-repetitions  and  answers  from  afar, 
that  by  counter-positions  built  up  triumphal  gates,  whose 
architraves,  whose  archways— horizontal  upright— rested,  rose 
at  altitude  by  spans— that  seemed  ghostly  from  infinitude. 
Without  measure  were  the  architraves,  past  number  were  the 
archways,  beyond  memory  the  gates.  Suddenly,  as  thus  we 
rode  from  infinite  to  infinite,  and  tilted  over  abyssmal  worlds,  a 
mighty  cry  arose,  that  systems  more  mysterious,  that  worlds 


200  MACARIA  ;    OE, 

more  billowy,  other  heights  and  other  depths,  were  coming,  ft-ere 
nearing,  were  at  hand.     Then  the  angel  ^threw  up  his  glorious 
hands  to  the  heaven  of  heavens,  saying  :  *  End  is  there  none  to  • 
the  universe  of  God.     Lo  !  also,  there  is  no  beginning  !"' 

Among  the  mysteries  of  the  Crotoua  school  the  Samian  sage 
had  taught  the  "  music  of  the  spheres,"  and  to-night  Irene  dwelt 
upon  the  thought  of  that  grand  choir  of  innumerable  worlds,  that 
mighty  orchestra  of  starry  systems, 

"  Where,  through  the  long-drawn  aisle  and  fretted  vault, 
The  pealing  anthem  swells  the  note  of  praise'' 

unceasingly  to  the  Lord  of  glory,  till  her  firm  lips  relaxed,  and 
the  immortal  words  of  Shakspeare  fell  slowly  from  them  : 

"  Look  how  the  floor  of  heaven 
Is  thick  inlaid  with  patines  of  bright  gold  ; 
There's  not  the  smallest  orb  which  thou  behold'st,  '^ 

But  iu  his  motion  like  an  angel  sings, 
Still  quiring  to  the  young-eyed  cherubims. 
Such  harmony  is  in  immortal  souls  ; 
But  whilst  this  muddy  vesture  of  decay 
Doth  grossly  close  it  in,  we  cannot  hear  it.'' 

That  the  myriad  members  of  the  shining  archipelago  were  peo 
pled  with  orders  of  intelligent  beings,  differing  from  our  race 
even  as  the  planets  differ  in  magnitude  and  physical  structure, 
she  entertained  not  a  doubt  ;  and  as  feeble  fancy  struggled  to 
grasp  and  comprehend  the  ultimate  destiny  of  the  countless  hosts 
of  immortal  creatures,  to  which  our  earthly  races,  with  their  dis- 
tinct, unalterable  types,  stood  but  as  one  small  family  circle  amid 
clustering  w»orlds,  her  wearied  brain  and  human  heart  bowed 
humbly,  reverently,  worshipingly  l)efore  the  God  of  Revelation, 
who  can  "  bind  the  sweet  influences  of  Pleiades,  or  loose  the 
bands  of  Orion  ;  bring  forth  Mazzaroth  in  his  season,  and  guide 
Arcturus  with  his  sons."  Kneeling  there,  with  the  twinkling 
liuht  of  stars  upon  her  up-turned  face,  she  prayed  earnestly  for 
strength,  and  grace,  and  guidance  from  on  High,  that  she  might 
so  hve  and  govern  herself  that,  when  the  season  of  earthly  pro- 
bation ended,  she  could  fearlessly  pass  to  her  eternal  home,  and 
joyfully  meet  the  awful  face  of  Jehovah. 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  2Ul 

The  night  was  almost  spent  ;  she  knew  from  the  "  celestial 
clock-work"  that  Day  bUished  just  behind  the  horizon  ;  that,  ere" 
long,  silver-gray  fingers  would  steal  up  the  quiet  sky,  parting  the 
sable  curtains  ;  and,  taking  the  lamp,  she  hung  the  observatory 
key  upon  her  girdle,  and  glided  noiselessly  down  the  stairway  to 
her  own  apartment. 

Paragon  slept  on  the  threshold,  and  raised  his  head  to  gretf 
lier  ;  she  stooped,  stroked  his  silky  ears,  and  closed  the  door, 
shutting  liim  out.  Fifteen  minutes  later  she,  too,  was  sleeping 
soundly  ;  and  an  hour  and  a  half  afterward,  followed  by  that 
faithful  guardian  "  dweller  of  the  threshold"  she  swept  down  the 
steps,  and,  amid  the  matin  chant  of  forest  birds,  mounted  Erebus, 
and  dashed  off  at  full  gallop  for  the  customary  ride.  No  matter 
what  occurred  to  prevent  her  sleeping,  she  invariably  rode  be- 
fore breakfast  when  the  weather  permitted  ;  and  as  her  midnight 
labors  left  few  hours  for  repose,  she  generally  retired  to  her 
room  immediately  after  dinner  and  indulged  in  the  luxury  of  a 
two  hours'  nap.  Such  was  a  portion  of  the  regimen  she  had  pre- 
scribed for  herself  on  her  return  from  school,  and  which  she  suf- 
fered only  the  inclemency  of  the  weather  to  infringe. 


CHAPTER   XYIII. 

"  Surely,  uncle  Eric,  there  is  room  enough  in  this  large,  airy 
house  of  ours  to  accommodate  my  mother's  brother  1  I  thought 
it  was  fully  settled  that  you  were  to  reside  with  us.  There  is  no 
good  reason  why  you  should  not.  Obviously,  we  have  a  better 
claim  upon  you  than  anybody  else  ;  why  doom  yourself  to  the 
loneliness  of  a  separate'  household  ?     Reconsider  the  matter." 

"  No,  Irene  ;  it  is  better  that  I  should  have  a  quiet  little 
home  of  my  own,  free  from  the  inevitable  restraints  incident  to 
residing  under  the  roof  of  another.  My  recluse  nature  and  ha- 
bits unfit  me  for  the  gay  young  associates  who  throng  this 
house,  making  carnival-time  of  all  seasons." 

9* 


202  macaria;  or, 

"  I  will  change  the  library,  and  give  you  two  rooms  on  this 
•floor,  to  avoid  stair-steps  ;  I  will  build  you  a  wall  of  partition, 
and  have  your  doors  and  windows  hermetically  sealed  against 
intrusion.  iS'o  sound  of  billiard-ball,  or  dancing  feet,  or  noisy 
laughter  shall  invade  your  sanctuary.  Xot  St.  Simeon,,  of  isola- 
ted memory,  could  desire  more  complete  seclusion  and  solitude 
ftlan  that  with  which  I  shall  indulge  you.^^ 

"  It  is  advisable  that  I  should  go." 

"  I  appreciate  neither  the  expediency  nor  necessity." 

"  Like  all  other  crusty,  self-indulgent  bachelors,  I  have  many 
whims,  which  I  certainly  do  not  expect  people  to  bear  pa- 
tiently." 

"  You  are  neither  crusty  nor  self-indulgent,  that  I  have  disco- 
vered ;  as  for  your  whims,  I  have  large  charity,  and  will  humor 
them." 

"  Irene,  I  want  a  house  of  my  own,  to  which  I  can  feel  privi- 
leged to  invite  such  guests,  such  companions,  as  I  deem  conge- 
nial, irrespective  of  the  fiats  of  would-be  social  autocrats,  and  the 
social  ostracism  of  certain  cliques." 

She  was  silent  a  moment,  but  met  his  keen  look  without  the 
slightest  embarrassment,  and  yet  when  she  spoke  he  knew,  from 
her  eyes  and  voice,  that  she  fully  comprehended  his  meaning. 

"  Of  course,  it  is  a  matter  which  you  must  determine  for  your- 
self. You  are  the  best  judge  of  what  conduces  to  your  happi- 
ness ;  but  I  am  sorry,  very  sorry,  uncle  Eric,  that,  in  order  to 
promote  it,  you  feel  it  necessary  to  remove  from  our  domestic 
circle.     I  shall  miss  you  painfully." 

"  Pardon  me,  but  I  doubt  the  last  clause.  You  lean  on  no 
one  sufi&cieutly  to  note  the  absence  of  their  support." 

"  Do  you  recognize  no  difference  between  a  parasitic  clinging 
and  an  affectionate  friendship,  a  valued  companionship  based  on 
congenial  tastes  and  sympathies  ?" 

"  Unquestionably,  I  admit  and  appreciate  the  distinction  ; 
but  you  do  not  meet  me  full-eyed,  open-handed,  on  this  common 
platform  of  congeniality,  strengthened  as  it  is,  or  should  be,  by 
near  relationship.  You  confront  me  always  with  your  emotional 
nature  mail-clad,  and'  make  our  intercourse  a  mere  intellectual 


ALTARS    OF    »ACliIFlCE.  203 

fencing-match.  Now,  mark  you,  I  have  no  wish  to  force  your 
confidence  ;  that  is  a  curious  and  complex  lock,  which  only  the 
golden  key  of  perfect  love  and  trust  should  ever  open  ;  and  I  sim- 
ply desire  to  say  that  your  constitutional  reticence  or  habitual 
reserve  precludes  the  hope  of  my  rendering  you  either  assistance 
or  sympathy  by  my  continued  presence." 

"  Uncle  Eric,  it  arises  from  no  want  of  trust  in  you,  but  in 
the  consciousness  that  only  I  can  help  myself.  I  have  more 
than  once  heard  you  quote  Wallenstein  ;  have  you  so  soon  for- 
gotten his  words  : 

"  '  Permit  her  own  will. 
For  there  are  sorrows. 
Where,  of  necessity,  the  soul  must  be 
Its  own  support.    A  strong  heart  will  rely 
On  its  own  strength  alone.' '' 

"  But,  my  dear  girl,  you  certainly  are  no  Thekla  ?" 

Was  there  prescience  in  his  question,  and  a  quick  recognition 
of  it  in  the  quiver  which  ran  across  her  lips  and  eyelids  ? 

''  The  fates  forbid  that  I  should  ever  be  I" 

"  Irene,  in  the  name  and  memory  of  your  mother,  promise  me 
one  thing  ;  that  if  sorrows  assail  you,  and  a  third  party  can 
bear  aught  on  his  shoulders  you  will  call  upon  me." 

"  A  most  improbable  conjunction  of  circumstances  ;  but,  in 
such  emergency,  I  promise  to  afflict  you  with  a  summons  to 
the  rescue.  Uncle  Eric,  I  think  I  shall  never  gall  any  shoulders 
but  my  own  with  the  burdens  which  God  may  see  fit  to  lay  on 
them  in  the  coming  years." 

He  loo-ked  pained,  puzzled  and  irresolute  ;  but  she  smiled,  and 
swept  her  fingers  over  the  bars  of  her  bird-cage,  toying  with  its 
golden-throated  inmate. 

"  Have  you  any  engagement  for  this  morning  ?" 

"  None,  sir.     What  can  I  do  for  you  ?" 

"  If  you  feel  disposed,  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  you  accompany 
me  to  town  ;  I  want  your  assistance  m  selecting  a  set  of  china 
for  my  new  home.     Will  you  go  ?" 

A  shadow  drifted  over  the  colorless  tranquil  face,  as  she  said, 
sadly  : 


2Ui  MACARIA  ;    OK, 

"  Uncle  Eric,  is  it  utterly  useless  for  mo  to  attempt  to  per- 
suade you  to  relinquish  this  project,  and  remain  with  us  ?" 

"  Utterly  useless,  ray  dear  child." 

"  I  will  get  my  bonnet,  and  join  you  at  the  carriage." 

Yery  near  the  cottage  formerly  occupied  by  Mrs.  Aubrey 
stood  a  small  brick  house,  partially  concealed  by  poplar  and  sy- 
camore trees,  and  surrounded  by  a  neat,  well  arranged,  flower- 
garden.  This  was  the  place  selected  and  purchased  by  the  crip- 
ple for  his  future  home.  Mr.  Huntingdon  had  opposed  the 
whole  proceeding,  and  invited  his  brother-in-law  to  reside  with 
him  ;  but  beneath  the  cordial  surface  the  guest  felt  that  other 
sentiments  rolled  deep  and  strong.  He  had  little  in  common 
with  his  sister's  husband,  and  only  a  warm  and  increasing  affec- 
tion for  his  niece  now  induced  hini  to  settle  in  W ■ — .    Some 

necessary  repairs  had  been  made,  some  requisite  arrangements 
completed  regarding  servants,  and  to-day  the  finishing  touches 
were  given  to  the  snug  liUle  batchelor  establishment.  When  it 
was  apparent  that  no  arguments  would  avail  to  alter  the  de- 
cision, Irene  ceased  to  speak  of  it,  and  busied  herself  in  various 
undertakings  to  promote  her  uncle's  comfort.  She  made  pretty 
white  curtains  for  his  library  windows,  knitted  bright-colored 
worsted  lamp-mats,  and  hemmed  and  marked  the  contents  of  the 
linen-closet.  The  dining-room  pantry  she  took  under  her  special 
charge,  and  at  the  expiration  of  ten  days,  when  the  master  took 
formal  possession,  she  accompanied  him,  and  enjoyed  the  pleased 
surprise  with  which  he  received  her  donation  of  cakes,  preserves, 
catchups,  pickles,  etc.,  etc.,  neatly  stowed  away  on  the  spotless 
shelves. 

''  I  shall  make  a  weekly  pilgrimage  to  this  same  pantry,  and 
take  an  inventory  of  its  contents.  I  intend  to  take  good  care  of 
you,  though  you  have  moved  off,  Diogenes-like." 

She  stepped  forward,  and  arranged  some  glass  jars  which 
stood  rather  irregular. 

"  How  prim  and  old-maidish  you  are  I"  laughed  her  uncle. 

"  I  never  could  bear  to  see  things  scattered  in  that  helter- 
skelter  style  ;  I  hke  bottles,  jars,  plates  and  dishes  drilled  into 
straight  lines  not  leaning  in  and  out,  in  that  broken  rank  fashion. 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  205 

I  am  not  given  to  boasting,  but  I  will  say  that  no  housekeeper 
can  show  a  nicer,  neater  pantry  than  my  own." 

"What  have  you  in  tliat  basket  ?" 

"  Flowers  from  the  green-house.  Come  into  the  library,  and 
let  me  dress  your  new  vases." 

He  followed  her  into  the  next  room,  and  watched  her  as  she 
leisurely  and  tastefully  disposed  her  flowers  ;  now  searching  the 
basket  for  a  sprig  of  ever-green,  and  now  bending  obstinate  stems 
to  make  stiff -clusters  lean  lovingly  to  each  other.  Placing  the 
vases  on  the  mantle,  she  stepped  back  to  inspect  the  effect,  and 
said,  gravely  : 

"  How  beautiful  they  are  !  Let  me  always  dress  your  vases, 
uncle.  Women  have  a  knack  of  intertwining  stems  and  groni> 
ing  colors  ;  our  fingers  were  ordained  for  all  such  embroidery  on 
the  coarse  gray  serge  of  stern,  practical  every-day  life.  Yon 
men  are  more  at  home  with  state  papers,  machine  shops,  navies, 
armies,  political  economy,  and  agricultural  chemistry,  than  with 
fragile  azaleas  and  golden-dusted  lilies."  Before  he  could  reply 
she  turned,  and  asked  : 

"  What  do  those  large  square  boxes  in  the  hall  contain  ?" 

"  Books  which  I  gathered  in  Europe  and  selected  in  New 
York  ;  among  them  many  rare  old  volumes,  which  you  have 
never  seen.  Come  down  next  Monday,  and  help  me  to  number 
and  shelve  them  ;  afterward,  we  will  read  them  together.  Lay 
aside  your  bonnet,  and  spend  the  evening  with  me." 

"  Xo,  I  must  go  back  ;  Hugh  sent  me  word  that  he  would 
bring  company  to  tea."  , 

He  took  her  hand,  and  drew  her  close  to  his  chair,  saying, 
gently  : 

"  Ah,  Irene  !  I  wish  I  could  keep  you  always.  You  would 
be  happier  here,  in  this  little  unpretending  home  of  mine,  than 
presiding  as  mistress  over  that  great  palatial  house  on  the  hill 
yonder." 

"  There  you  mistake  me  most  entirely.  I  love,  better  than 
any  other  place  on  earth,  my  stately,  elegant,  beautiful  home. 
Not  Fontainebleau,  Windsor,  Potsdam  ;  not  the  vineyards  of 
Shiraz,  or  the  gardens  of  Damascus,  could  win  me  from  it.     I 


206  MACARIA  ;   OR, 

love  every  tree,  every  creeper,  every  foot  of  grouud  from  the 
front  gate  to  the  brink  of  the  creek.  If  you  suppose  that  I  am 
not  happy  there,  you  err  egregiously." 

"  My  intuitions  rarely  deceive  me." 

*'  At  least,  uncle  Eric,  they  play  you  false  in  this  instance. 
Why,  sir,  I  would  not  give  my  grand  old  avenue  of  primeval 
elms  for  St.  Peter's  nave.  Your  intuitions  are  full  of  cobwebs  ; 
have  them  well  swept  and  dusted  before  I  see  you  Monday. 
Good-night,  uncle  ;  I  must  really  go.  li  you  find  we  have  for- 
gotten anything,  send  Willis  up  for  it." 

He  kissed  her  fingers  tenderly,  and,  taking  her  basket,  she  left 
him  alone  in  his  new  home. 

A  few  weeks  passed  without  incident  ;  Hugh  went  to  New 
Orleans  to  visit  friends,  and  Mr.  Huntingdon  was  frequently  ab- 
sent at  the  plantation. 

One  day  he  expressed  the  desire  that  Judge  Harris'  family 
should  dine  with  him,  and  added  several  gentlemen,  "  to  make 
the  party  merry."  Irene  promptly  issued  the  invitations,  sup- 
pressing the  reluctance  which  filled  her  heart ;  for  the  young 
people  were  not  favorites,  and  she  dreaded  Charlie's  set  speeches 
and  admiruig  glances,  not  less  than  his  mother's  endless  disquisi- 
tions on   fashion  and  the  pedigree  of  all  the  best  families  of 

W and  its  vicinage.     Grace  had  grown  up  very  pretty, 

highly  accomplished,  even-tempered,  gentle-hearted,  but  full  of 
her  mother's  fashionable  notions,  and,  withal,  rather  weak  and 
frivolous.  Slie  and  Irene  were  constantly  thrown  into  each  oth- 
er's society,  but  no  warmth  of  feeling  existed  on  either  side. 
Grace  could  not  comprehend  her  companion's  character,  and 
Irene  wearied  of  her  gay,  heedless  chit-chat.  As  the  latter  an- 
ticipated, the  day  proved  very  tiresome  ;  the  usual  complement 
of  music  was  contributed  by  Grace,  the  expected  quantity  of 
flattering  nothings  gracefully  uttered  by  her  brother,  the  custo- 
mary amount  of  execrable  puns  handed  around  the  circle  for  pat- 
ronage, and  Irene  gave  the  signal  for  dinner.  Mr.  Huntingdon 
prided  himself  on  his  fine  wines,  and,  after  the  decanters  had  cir- 
culated freely,  the  gentlemen  grew  garrulous  as  market-women. 

Irene  was  gravely  discussing  the  tariff  question  with  Mr.  Her- 


ALTARS    OF   SACRU'ICE.  207 

bert  Blackwell  (whom  Mrs.  Ilurris  pronounced  the  m<jst  prom- 
ising young  lawyer  of  her  acquaintance),  and  pohtcly  listening 
to  his  stereotyped  reasoning,  when  a  scrap  of  conversation  at  the 
opposite  end  of  the  table  attracted  her  attention. 

"  Huntingdon,  my  dear  fellow,  I  tell  you  I  never  made  a  mis- 
take in  my  life,  when  reading  people's  minds  ;  and  if  Aubrey  has 

not  the  finest  legal  inteflect  in  W ,  I  will  throw  up  my 

judgeship.  You  have  seen  Campbell,  I  suppose  ?  He  returned 
last  week,  and,  by  the  way,  I  half-expected  to  meet  him  to-day  ; 
well,  I  was  talking  to  him  about  Aubrey,  and  he  laughed  his 
droll,  chuckling  laugh,  snapped  his  bony  fingers  in  my  face,  and 
said  : 

"Aye  !  aye,  Harris,  let  him  alone  ;  hands  off  I  and  I  will 
wager  my  new  office  against  your  old  one  that  he  steps  into  your 
honor's  shoes.  IS'ow  you  know  perfectly  well  that  Campbell  has 
no  more  enthusiasm  than  a  brick  wall,  or  a  roll  of  red  tape  ;  but 
he  is  as  proud  of  the  young  man  as  if  he  were  his  son.  Do  you 
know  that  he  has  taken  him  into  partnership  ?" 
"Pshaw  !  he  will  never  commit  such  ^fauxpasP 
"  But  he  has  ;  I  read  the  notice  in  this  morning's  paper.  Pass 
the  madeira.  The  fact  is,  we  must  not  allow  our  old  prejudices 
to  make  us  unjust.     I  know  Aubrey  has  struggled  hai-d  ;  he  had 

much  to  contend P 

"  Hang  Campbell  and  the  partnership  I  He  will  find  that  he 
has  played  the  fool,  before  he  gets  rid  of  his  precious  pet.  Miss 
Grace,  do  let  me  fill  your  glass  ?  My  young  prude  there  at  the 
head  of  the  table  just  sips  hers  as  if  she  feared  it  was  poisoned. 
Mrs.  Harris,  you  have  no  sherry  ;  permit  me." 

"The  young  man's  antecedents  are  most  disgraceful,  Mr. 
Huntingdon,  and  I  told  the  judge  last  night  that  I  was  surprised 
at  Mr.  Campbell's  infatuation,"  chimed  in  Mrs.  Harris  over  her 
golden  sherry. 

"  Whose  antecedents,  mother  ?" 

"  My  dear,  we  were  speaking  of  Russell  Aubrey,  and  the  stig- 
ma on  his  name  and  character." 

"  Oh,  yes  I     His  father  was  sentenced  to  be  hung,  I  believe 
and  committed  suicide  in  prison.     But  what  a  splendid,  dark- 


208  MACARIA  ;   OR, 

looking  man  he  is  !     Decidedly  the  most  superb  figure  and  eyea 

in  W .     Shy,  though  !  shy  as  a  school-girl  ;  will  cross 

the  street  to  avoid  meeting  a  body.  When  he  finds  that  he  can 
not  dodge  you,  he  gives  you  the -full  benefit  of  his  magnificent 
eyes,  and  bows  as  haughtily  as  Great  Mogul.  Maria  Henderson 
goes  into  raptures  over  his  figure." 

With  head  slightly  inclined,  and  eyes  fixed  on  Mr.  Blackwell's 
fiicc,  Irene  had  heard  all  that  passed,  and  as  the  gentleman 
paused  in  his  harangue  to  drain  his  glass,  she  rose  and  led  the 
way  to  the  parlors.  The  gentlemen  adjourned  to  the  smoking- 
room,  and  in  a  short  time  Mrs.  Harris  ordered  her  carriage, 
pleading  an  engagement  with  Grace's  mantua-maker  as  an  ex- 
cuse for  leaving  so  early.  With  a  feeling  of  infinite  relief  the 
hostess  accompanied  them  to  the  door,  saw  the  carriage  descend 
the  avenue,  and,  desiring  one  of  the  servants  to  have  Erebus  sad- 
dled at  once,  she  went  to  her  room  and  changed  the  rich  dinner- 
dress  for  her  riding-habit.  As  she  sprang  into  the  saddle,  and 
gathered  up  the  reins,  her  father  called  from  the  open  window, 
whence  issued  curling  wreaths  of  blue  smoke  : 

"  Where  now,  Irene  ?" 

"  I  am  going  to  ride  ;  it  threatened  rain  this  morning,  and  I 
was  afraid  to  venture." 

He  said  something,  but  without  hearing  she  rode  off,  and  was 
soon  out  of  sight,  leaving  the  town  to  the  left,  and  taking  the 
road  that  wound  along  the  river-bank — the  same  where,  years 
before,  she  had  cantered  with  Grace,  Hugh,  and  Charlie.  It 
was  a  windless,  sunny  April  afternoon  ;  trees  were  freshly  robed 
in  new-born  friugy  foliage,  green 'and  glistening;  long  grassy 
slopes  looked  like  crinkled  velvet,  starred  with  delicate  pale  blue 
houstonias  ;  wandering  woodbine  trailed  its  coral  trumpets  in 
and  out  of  grass  and  tangled  shrubs,  and  late  wood  azaleas  load- 
ed the  air  with  their  delicious,  intoxicating  perfume.  Irene  felt 
unwontedly  depressed  ;  the  day  had  wearied  her  ;  she  shook  the 
reins,  and  the  beautiful  horse  sprang  on  in  a  quick  gallop.  For 
a  mile  farther  they  dashed  along  the  river  bank,  and  then  rein- 
ing him  up,  she  leaned  forward  and  drew  a  long,  deep  breath. 
The  scene  was  surpassingly  quiet  and  beautiful  ;  on  either  side 


ALTARS    OF    9ACKTFTCE.  209 

wooded  hills  came  down,  herd-like,  to  the  edg-c  of  the  streuni  to 
lave  their  thirsty  sides,  and  listen  to  the  continual  solemn  mono- 
tone of  the  foaming  falls  ;  here  a  small  flock  of  sheep  browsed  on 
the  young  waving  grass,  and  there  contented-looking  cows,  with 
glossy  satin  skins,  sauntered  homeward,  taking  the  road  with  as 
much  precision  as  their  Swiss  sisters  to  the  tune  of  Ranz  des 
Vaches ;  the  broad  river  sweeping  down  its  rocky  pavement, 
and,  over  all,  a  mellow  April  sky  of  intense  blue,  with  whiffs  of 
creamy  vapor,  sinuous  as  floss  silk.  Close  to  the  margin  of  the 
river  grew  a  luxuriant  mass  of  ivy,  and  now  the  dark  shining 
foliage  was  flecked  with  tiny  rosy  buds,  and  well-blown  waxen 
petals,  crimped  into  fairy-like  cups,  and  tinted  as  no  Sevres  china 
ever  wiU  be.  Urging  Erebus  into  the  thicket,  Irene  broke  as 
many  clusters  as  she  could  conveniently  carry  ;  dragged  a  long 
tangled  wreath  of  late  jasmine  from  its  seclusion,  fastened  it 
across  the  pommel  of  the  saddle,  and  turned  her  horse's  head 
homeward.  The  sight  of  these  ivy  cups  recalled  the  memory  of 
her  aunt  Margaret ;  they  had  been  her  favorite  flowers,  and,  as 
thought  now  took  another  channel,  she  directed  her  way  to  the 
grave-yard.  She  always  rode  rapidly,  and,  ere  long,  Erebus' 
feet  drew  sparks  from  the  rocky  road  leading  up  the  hill-side  to 
the  cemetery  gate.  Dismounting,  she  fastened  the  reins  to  one 
of  the  iron  spikes,  and,  gathering  the  folds  of  her  habit  over  her 
arm,  carried  her  flowers  to  the  family  burying  ground.  It  was 
a  large  square  lot,  enclosed  by  a  handsome  railing  and  tall  gate, 
bearing  the  name  of  "Huntingdon"  in  silver  letters.  As  she 
approached,  she  was  surprised  to  find  a  low  brick  wall  and  beau- 
tiful new  marble  monument  close  to  her  father's  lot,  and  occu- 
pying a  space  which  had  been  filled  with  grass  and  weeds  a  few 
weeks  previous.  While  she  paused,  wondering  whose  was  the 
new  monument,  and  resolved  to  examine  it,  a  tall  form  stepped 
from  behind  the  column,  and  stood,  with  folded  arms,  looking 
dow!i  at  the  grate.  There  was  no  mistaking  face  or  figure  ;  evi- 
dently he  was  unaware  of  her  presence,  though  she  was  near 
enough  to  mark  the  stern  sorrow  written  on  his  countenance. 
She  glided  forward  and  opened  the  heavy  gate  of  her  own  en- 
closure ;  with  difficulty  she  pushed  it  ajar,  and  with  a  sudden, 


210  MACAEIA  ;   OR, 

sharp,  clanging  report  it  swung  back,  and  the  bolt  slid  to  its 
rusty  place.  He  lifted  his  eyes  then,  and  saw  her  standing  a  few 
yards  from  him  ;  the  rich  soft  folds  of  the  Maria  Louise  blue 
riding-dress  trailed  along  the  ground  ;  the  blue  velvet  hat,  with 
its  long  drooping  plume,  had  become  loosened  by  the  exercise, 
and,  slipping  back,  left  fully  exposed  the  dazzling  white  face  and 
golden  glory  of  waving  hair.  She  bowed,  he  returned  the  silent 
token  of  recognition,  and  she  moved  forward  to  her  aunt's  tomb, 
wreathing  it  with  the  flowers  which  Miss  Margaret  had  loved  so 
well.  The  sun  was  low,  leaning  upon  the  purple  crest  of  a  dis- 
tant hill  ;  the  yellow  light  flashed  over  the  forest  of  marble  pil- 
lars, and  their  cold  polished  surfaces  gave  back  the  waning  glare, 
throwing  it  off  contemptuously,  as  if  sunshine  were  a  mockery  in 
that  silent  city  of  the  dead.  Sombre  sacred  guardian  cedars  ex- 
tended their  arms  lovingly  over  the  marble  couches  of  fair  young 
sleepers  in  God's  Acre,  and  venerable  willows  wept  over  many 
a  stela,  whose  inscription  lichen-footed  Time  had  effaced.  Here 
slept  two  generations  of  the  Huutingdons,  and  the  last  scion  of 
the  proud  old  house  stood  up  among  the  hoarded  bones  of  her 
ancestry,  glancing  round  at  the  moss-stained  costly  mausoleums, 
and  noting  the  fiict  that  the  crowded  lot  had  room  for  but  two 
more  narrow  beds — two  more  silent  citizens — her  father  and  her- 
self. It  was  a  reflection  which  she  had  little  inclination  to  linger 
over,  anJ,  retaining  a  beautiful  cluster  of  ivy  and  jasmine,  she 
left  the  enclosure,  keeping  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground. 

As  she  passed  the  new  lot  the  gate  swung  open,  andRassell 
stood  before  her. 

"  Good  evening,  Miss  Huntingdon." 

"  Good  evening,  Mr.  Aubrey." 

The  name  sounded  strange  and  harsh  as  she  uttered  it,  and 
involuntarily  she  paused  and  held  out  her  hand.  He  accepted 
it  ;  for  an  instant  the  cold  fingers  lay  in  his  warm  palm,  and  as 
she  withdrew  them  he  said,  in  the  rich  mellow  voice  which  she 
had  heard  in  the  church  : 

'*  Allow  me  to  show  you  my  mother's  monument." 

He  held  the  gate  open,  and  she  entered  and  stood  at  his  side. 
The  monument  was  beautiful  in  its  severe  simplicity — a  pure, 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  _       211 

faultless  shaft,  crowned  with  a  delicately  chiselled  wreath  of  poj> 
pv  leaves,  and  ))earing  these  words  in  gilt  letters  :  "  Sacred  to 
the  memory  of  my  mother,  Amy  Aubrey."  Just  below,  iu  black 
characters,  *'  Rcsiirgam  /"  and,  underneath  the  whole,  on  a 
finely-fluted  scroll,  the  inscription  of  St.  Gilgen.  After  a  silence 
of  some  moments  Russell  pointed  to  the  sin^lar  and  solemn 
words,  and  said,  as  if  speaking  rather  to  himself  than  to  her  : 

"I  want  to  say  always,  with  Paul  Flemming,  *  I  will  be 
strong,'  and  therefore  I  placed  here  the  inscription  which 
proved  an  evangel  to  him,  that  when  I  come  to  my  mother's 
grave  I  may  be  strengthened,  not  melted,  by  the  thronging  of 
bitter  memories."  ^ 

She  looked  up  as  he  spoke,  and  the  melancholy  splendor  of  the 
deep  eyes  stirred  her  heart  as  nothing  had  ever  done  before. 

"  I  have  few  flowers  left  ;  let  me  lay  them  as  an  affectionate 
tribute,  an  '  i7i  memoricun^  on  your  mother's  tomb — for  the 
olden  time,  the  cottage  days,  are  as  fresh  in  my  recollection  as 
iu  yours." 

She  held  out  the  woodland  bouquet  ;  he  took  it,  and  strewed 
the  blossoms  along  the  broad  base  of  the  shaft,  reserving  only  a 
small  cluster  of  the  rosy  china  cups.  Both  were  silent  ;  but  as  she 
turned  to  go,  a  sudden  gust  blew  her  hat  from  her  head,  the 
loosened  comb  fell  upon  the  grass,  and  down  came  the  heavy 
masses  of  hair.  She  twisted  them  hastily  into  a  coil,  fastened 
them  securely,  and  received  her  hat  from  him,  with  a  cool : 

"  Thank  you,  sir  ;  when  did  you  hear  from  Electra  ?" 

They  walked  on  to  the  cemetery  gate,  and  he  answered  : 

"I  have  heard  nothing  for  some  weeks.  Have  you  any  mes- 
sage ?  I  am  going  to  New  York  in  a  few  days  to  try  to  per- 
suade her  to  return  to  W with  m  \" 

"  I  doubt  the  success  of  your  mission  ;  W has  little  to 

tempt  an  artist  like  your  cousin.  Be  kind  enough  to  tender  her 
my  love,  and  best  wishes  for  the  realization  of  her  artistic 
dreams." 

They  had  reached  the  gate  where  Erebus  w^aited,  when  Rus- 
sell took  off"  his  hat  reverently,  and  pointed  to  the  western  sky 
all  "  a  flame."     Masses  of  purple,  scarlet,  gold,  amber,  and  pure 


212  MACARIA  ;   OR,  ^ 

pale  opaline  green  blended  in  one  magnificent  conflagration  ;  and 
toward  the  zenith  tortuous  feathery  braids  and  flashes  of  blood- 
red  cirri,  gleaming  through  the  mild  balmy  air  like  coral  reefe 
in  some  breezeless  oriental  sea. 

"  No  soft,  neutral,  sober  '  Graise'  there,' "  said  Irene,  lifting 
her  hand  to  the  glowing  cloud-panorama. 

lie  took  up  the  question  promptly,  and  added  :  . 

"  'The  Angel  of  the  Sea'  is  abroad  on  his  immemorial  mis- 
sion, the  soft  wings  droop  still  with  dew,  and  the  shadows  of 
their  plumes  falter  on  the  hill  ;  strange  laughings  and  glitterings 
of  silver  streamlets,  born  suddenly  and  twined  about  the  mossy 
heights  in  trickling  tinsel,  answering  to  them  as  they  wave.  The 
coiled  locks  of  *  hundred-headed  Typhou '  leave  no  menace 
yonder." 

He  paused,  and  turning  suddenly,  with  a  piercing  look  at  his 
companion,  continued  : 

"  Miss  Huntingdon,  '  on  what  anvils  and  wheels  is  the  vapor 
pointed,  twisted,  hammered,  whirled  as  the  potter's  clay  ?  By 
what  hands  is  the  incense  of  the  sea  built  up  into  domes  of 
marble  V  " 

"  I  see  that  you  follow  assiduously  the  beck  of  Nature's  last 
anointed  hierophant,  and  go  in  and  out  with  the  seer,  even 
among  the  cherubim  and  seraphim  of  his  metropolitan  cathedral, 
with  its  '  gates  of  rock,  pavements  of  cloud,  choirs  of  stream, 
altars  of  snow,  and  vaults  of  puiple,  traversed  by  the  continual 
stars.' " 

"  Yes  ;  I  am  a  reverent  student  and  warm  admirer  of  John 
Ruskin.  I  learned  to  love  him  first  through  the  recommenda- 
tion of  my  cousin  ;  then  for  his  gorgeous,  unapproachable  word- 
painting." 

While  they  talked,  the  brilliant  pageant  faded,  the  coral  banks 
paled  to  snowy  lines,  as  if  the  blue  waves  of  air  were  foam- 
crested,  and  in  the  valley  below  rose  the  dusky  outline  of  the 
dark-haired,  wan-browed,  gray-clad  twilight,  stealing  her  "sober 
livery"  over  the  flushed  and  fretted  bosom  of  the  murmuring 
river. 

"  You  have  a  long  walk  to  town,"  said  Irene,  as  Russell  ar- 
ranged her  horse's  reins. 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  213 

"  I  shall  not  find  it  loiip:.  It  is  a  fine  piece  of  road,  and  the 
stars  will  be  up  to  light  it." 

He  held  out  his  hand  to  assist  her  ;  she  sprang  easily  to  the 
saddle,  then  leaned  toward  him,  every  statue-like  curve  and 
moulding  of  her  proud  ivory  face  stamping  themselves  on  his  re- 
collection, as  she  spoke. 

"  Be  so  good  as  to  hand  me  my  glove  ;  I  dropped  it  at  yo«r 
feet  as  I  mounted.  Thank  you.  Good  evenihg,  Mr.  Aubrey  ; 
take  my  best  wishes  on  your  journey  and  its  mission." 

"  Good-by,  Miss  Huntingdon."  He  raised  his  hat,  and,  as 
she  wheeled  off,  the  magnetic  handsome  face  followed,  haunted 
her.  Erebus  was  impatient,  out  of  humor,  and  flew  up  the  next 
steep  hill  as  if  he,  too  were  haunted.  Glancing  back  as  she 
reached  the  summit,  Irene  saw  the  erect,  stern,  solitary  figure 
at  the  extremity  of  the  wooded  vista,  and  in  that  mystical  dim 
light  he  looked  a  colossal  avenging  Yiking. 

Once  more,  as  in  childhood,  she  heard  the  whirl  of  the  loom 
of  destiny  ;  and  to-night,  catching  sight  of  tlie  Parcce  fingers, 
she  knew  that  along  the  silver  warp  of  her  life  ran  dark  alien 
threads,  interweaving  all  in  one  sliapeless  tangled  web. 

On  through  gathering  gloom  dashed  horse  and  rider,  over  the 
little  gurgling  stream,  through  tlie  gate,  up  the  dark,  rayless 
avenue  to  the  door-step.  The  billiard-room  was  a  blaze  of  light, 
and  th^  cheerful  sound  of  mingled  voices  came  out  at  the  open 
wnndow,  to  tell  that  the  gentlemen  had  not  yet  finished  their  game. 
Pausing  in  the  hall,  Irene  listened  an  instant  to  distinguish  the 
voices,  then  ascended  the  long  easy  stair-case.  The  lamp  threw 
a  mellow  radiance  on  the  steps,  and  as  she  reached  the  landing 
Hugh  caught  her  in  his  arms,  and  kissed  her  warmly.  Startled 
by  his  unexpected  appearance,  she  recoiled  a  step  or  two  and 
asked,  rather  haughtily  : 
"  When  did  you  get  home  ?" 

"  Only  a  few  moments  after  you  left  the  house.  Do  change 
your  dress  quickly,  and  come  down.  I  have  a  thousand  things 
to  say." 

She  waited  to  hear  no  more,  but  disengaged  herself  and  went 
to  her  room. 


214  MAC  ARIA  ;   OR, 

"  Now,  child  I  why  will  yon  do  so  ?  What  makes  you  stay 
out  so  late,  and  then  come  thundering  back  like  a  hurricane  ?  I 
never  did  like  that  horse's  great  big  saucy,  shining,  devilish  eyes.  I 
tell  Andrew  constantly  I  wish  he  would  manage  to  break  his 
legs  while  he  is  jumping  over  all  the  fences  on  the  place.  You 
scare  me  nearly  to  death  about  your  riding  ;  I  tell  you,  beauty, 
that  black  satan  will  break  your  neck  yet.  Your  grandfather 
was  flung  from  just  such  a  looking  brute,  and  dragged  till  he 
was  dead  ;  aud  some  day  that  everlasting  long  hair  of  yours  will 
drag  you  to  your  grave.  Here  it  is  now,  all  streaming  down 
your  back  ;  yes — just  as  I  expected — not  a  blessed  hair-pin  left 
in  it  ;  done  galloped  'em  all  clean  out.  You  will  ride  yourself 
into  eternity.  Sit  down,  and  let  me  comb  it  out ;  it  is  all  in  a 
tangle,  like  raveled  yellow  silk." 

Nellie  looked  cloudy,  moody,  and  her  mistress  offered  no 
resistance  to  her  directions. 

"  Mas'  Hugh's  come." 

"Yes  ;  I  know  it." 

"  But  you  don't  know  supper  is  almost  ready,  do  you  ?  Pre- 
sently you  will  hear  your  father's  voice  sounding  like  a  brass 
trumpet  down  stairs,  if  you  ar'n't  ready.  There  I  John  rings 
that  bell  as  if  he  had  the  dead  to  raise  !" 

"  That  will  do,  aunt  Nellie,  only  give  me  a  handkerchief." 

She  went  down,  and  met  her  father  at  the  dining  room  door. 

"  Come,  Queen  ;  we  are  waiting  for. you." 

He  looked  at  her  fondly,  took  her  hand,  and  drew  her  to  the 
table  ;  and,  in  after  years,  she  recalled  this  occasion  with  mourn- 
ful pleasure  as  the  last  on  which  he  had  ever  given  her  his  pet 

name. 

"     .      .      .    There  are  fatal  days,  indeed, 
In  which  the  fibrous  years  have  taken  root 
So  deeply,  that  they  quiver  to  their  tops 
Whene'er  you  stir  the  dust  of  such  a  day." 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  215 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


"  Come  out  on  the  colonade  ;  the  air  is  delicious."  As  he 
spoke,  Hugh  drew  his  cousin's  arm  through  his,  and  led  the  way 
from  the  tea-table. 

"  You  had  company  to  dine  to-day  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  if  I  had  known  that  you  were  coming  home  to-day  I 
would  have  postponed  the  invitation  till  to-morrow.  Grace  ex- 
pressed much  disappointment  at  your  absence." 

"  Indeed  I  Of  course  I  am  duly  grateful.  What  a  pretty, 
sweet  little  creature  she  is  1  So  sprightly,  so  vivacious,  so  winning; 
so  charmingly  ignorant  of  'Almacantar'  and  'Azimutli,'  and  all 
such  learned  stupidity.  Unlike  some  royal  personages  of  my 
acquaintance,  who  are  for  ever  soaring  among  the  stars,  she 
never  stretches  ray  brains  the  hundredth  part  of  an  inch  to  com- 
prehend her  delightful  prattle.  Like  Dickens'  '  Dora,'  she 
regards  any  attempt  to  reason  with  her  as  a  greater  insult  than 
a  downright  scolding.  Your  solemn  worshiper  was  also  present, 
I  believe  ?" 

"  To  whom  do  you  allude  ?" 

*'  Your  tedious,  tiresome  pertinacious  shadow,  Herbert  Black- 
well,  of  course  !  Do  you  know  I  detest  that  man  most 
cordially  ?" 

"  For  what  reason  ?" 

"  I  really  do  not  feel  in  the  mood  to  enumerate  all  his  peccadil- 
loes and  disagreeable  traits  ;  but  it  is  supremely  ridiculous  to 
see  the  way  in  which  he  hovers  round  you,  hke  one  of  those 
large  black  moths  about  the  hall  lamp." 

"  Come,  come,  Hugh  !  Mr.  Blackwell  is  a  man  whom  I 
respect  and  esteem,  and  you  shall  not  make  him  a  target  for 
your  merriment." 

"  Oh,  doubtless  I  my  czarina  !  and,  as  a  reward  for  your 
consideration,  he  would  fain  confer  on  you  his  distinguished  hand 
and  fortune.  It  is  quite  a  respectable  farce  to  watch  him  watch- 
ing you." 


216  MACARIA  ;    OK, 

"  I  Wish  you  had  a  tithe  of  his  industry  and  perseverance. 
Did  it  ever  occur  to  you  that  hfe  is  given  for  nobler  purposes 
and  loftier  aspirations  than  hunting,  fishing,  horse-racing,  gamb- 
ling, and  similar  methods  of  murdering  time  which  you  habitually 
patronize  ?" 

"  You  are  too  young  to  play  the  role  of  Mentor,  and  those 
rare  red  lips  of  yours  were  never  meant  for  homilizing.  Irene, 
how  long  do  you  intend  to  keep  me  in  painful  suspense  ?" 

"  I  am  not  aware  that  I  have  in  any  degree  'kept  you  in  sus- 
pense." 

"  At  all  events,  you  know  that  you  torture  me  with  cool,  de- 
liberate cruelty." 

"  I  deny  your  charge  most  solemnly." 

"  My  dear  Irie,  let  us  understand  each  other  fully,  for " 

"^ay,  Hugh,  be  honest  ;  there  is  no  misapprehension  what- 
ever.    We  thoroughly  understand  each  other  already."  , 

"  You  shall  not  evade  me  ;  I  have  been  patient,  and  the  time 
has  come  when  we  must  talk  of  our  future.  Irene,  dearest,  be 
generous,  and  tell  rae  when  will  you  give  me,  irrevocably,  this 
hand  which  has  been  promised  to  me  from  your  infancy  ?" 

He  took  the  hand  and  carried  it  to  his  lips,  but  she  forcibly 
withdrew  it,  and,  disengaging  her  arm,  said,  emphatically  : 

"  Xever,  Hugh.     Xever.-' 

"  How  can  you  trifle  with  me,  Irene  ?  If  you  could  realize 
how  impatient  I  am  for  the  happy  day  when  I  shall  call  you  my 
wife,  you  would  be  serious,  and  fix  an  early  period  for  our  mar- 
riage." 

"  Hugh,  why  will  you  affect  to  misconceive  my  meaning?  I 
am  serious  ;  I  have  pondered,  long  and  well,  a  matter  involvmg 
your  life-long  happiness  and  mine,  and  I  tell  you,  most  solemnly, 
that  I  will  never  be  your  wife." 

"  Oh,  Irene  !  your  promise  I  your  sacred  promise  !" 

"  I  never  gave  it  !  On  the  contrary,  I  have  never  failed  to 
show  you  that  my  whole  nature  rebelled  against  the  most  unna- 
tural relation  forced  upon  me.  I  can  not,  shall  not,  hold  myself 
bound  by  the  promise  of  another  made  when  I  was  an  uncon- 
scious infant.     I  know  the  family  compact,  sealed  by  my  father's 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  217 

words,  at  your  mother's  death-bed,  making  two  little  irresponsi- 
ble children  parties  to  a  thoroughly  selfish,  ignoble  contract, 
which  is  revolting  to  me.  Your  future  and  mine  were  adumbra' 
ted  from  my  cradle,  and  tliat  which  only  we  could  legitimately 
decide  was  usurped  and  predetermined.  You  have  known,  for 
years,  that  I  loathed  the  heartless  betrothal  and  ignored  its  rc- 
•  strictions  ;  my  unalterable  determination  was  very  apparent  when 
you  returned  from  Europe.  You  were  kept  in  no  suspense  ;  you 
understood  me  then  as  fully  as  now  ;  and  it  is  ungenerous,  un- 
manly, to  press  a  suit  which  you  cannot  fail  to  know  is  extremely 
disagreeable  to  me." 

"  My  dear  Irene,  have  you,  then,  no  love  for  me  ?  I  have 
hoped  and  believed  that  you  hid  your  love  behind  your  cold 
mask  of  proud  silence.  You  must,  you  do  love  me,  my  beautiful 
cousin  !'' 

"  You  do  not  believe  your  own  words  ;  you  are  obliged  to 
know  better.     I  love  you  as  my  cousin,  love  you  somewhat  as  I 
love  uncle  Eric,  love  you  as  the  sole  young  relative  left  to  me, 
as  the  only  companion  of  my  lonely  childhood  ;  but  other  love 
than  this  I  never  had,  never  can  have  for  you.     Hugh,  my  cou- 
sin, look  fearlessly  at  the  unvarnished  truth  ;  neither  you  nor  I 
have  one  spark  of  that  affection  which  alone  can  sanction  mar- 
riage.    We  are  utterly  unlike  in  thought,  taste,  feeling,  habits 
of  life,  and  aspirations  ;  I  have  no  sympathy  with  vour  pursuits 
you  are  invariably  afflicted  with  eiinid  at  the  bare  suggestion  of 
mme.     Nature  stamped  us  with  relentless  antagonisms  of  charac- 
ter ;  I  bow  to  her  decree,  rather  than  to  man's  word.     Dante 
painted  no  purgatory  dark  enough  to  suit  the  wretchedness  that 
would  result  from   such   an   unholy  union    as  ours  would  be. 
Think  of  it,  Hugh  ;  a  loveless  marriage  ;  a  mere  moneyed  part- 
nership ;  a  sort  of  legal  contract  ;  the  only  true  union  being  of 
bank  stock,  railroad  shares,  and  broad  plantations."       She  lean- 
ed against  one  of  the  pillars  with  her  arms  folded,  and  a  cold 
merciless  smile  curling  the  beautiful  mouth. 

"  Indeed,  you  wrong  me,  my  worshiped  cousin.      You    are 
dearer  to  me  than  anything  else  on  earth.     I  have  loved  you 

Id 


218  MAC  ARIA  ;    OR, 

and  you  only,  from  my  boyhood  ;  you  have  been  a  lovely  idol 
from  earliest  recollection." 

"  You  are  mistaken,  most  entirely  mistaken  ;  I  am  not  to  be 
deceived,  neither  can  you  hoodwink  yourself.  You  like  me,  you 
love  me,  in  the  same  quiet  way  that  I  love  you  ;  you  admire 
me,  perhaps,  more  than  any  one  you  chance  to  know  just  no-w  ; 
you  are  partial  to  my  beauty,  and,  from  long  habit,  have  come  to 
regard  me  as  your  property,  much  in  the  same  light  as  that  in 
which  you  look  upon  your  costly  diamond  buttons,  or  your  high- 
spirited  horses,  or  rare  imported  pointers.  After  a  fashion  you 
like  me,  Hugh  ;  I  know  you  do  ;  and,  my  cousin,  it  would 
be  most  lamentable  and  unnatural  if  you  had  not  some  affection 
for  me  ;  but  love,  such  as  a  man  should  have  for  the  woman  whom 
he  makes  his  life-companion,  and  calls  by  the  sacred  name  of  wife, 
you  have  not  one  atom  of.  I  do  not  wish  to  wound  you,  but  I 
mus-t  talk  to  you  as  any  reasonable  woman  would  on  a  question 
of  such  great  importance  ;  for  I  hold  it  no  light  thing  for  two 
souls  to  burden  themselves  with  vows  which  neither  can  possibly 
perform.  Hugh,  I  abhor  sham  I  and  I  tell  you  now  that  I 
never  will  be  a  party  to  that  which  others  have  arranged  with- 
out my  consent." 

"  Ah  !  I  see  how  matters  stand.  Having  disposed  of  your 
heart,  and  lavished  your  love  elsewhere,  you  shrink  from  fulfill- 
ing the  sacred  obligations  4:hat  make  you  mine.  I  little  dream- 
ed that  you  were  so  susceptible,  else  I  had  not  left  you  feeling 
so  secure.  My  uncle  has  not  proved  the  faithful  guardian  I  be- 
lieved him  when  I  entrusted  my  treasure,  my  affianced  bride  to 
his  care." 

Bitter  disappointment  flashed  in  his  face  and  quivered  in  his 
voice,  rendering  him  reckless  of  consequences.  But  though  he 
gazed  fiercely  at  her  as  he  uttered  the  taunt,  it  produced  not  the 
faintest  visible  effect  ;  the  cloudless  chiselled  face  still  wore  its 
quiet  smile  of  mild  irony,  and  the  low  clear  voice  preserved  its 
sweetness. 

"  You  do  my  father  rank  injustice,  Hugh.  Not  Ladon  was 
more  faithful  or  tireless  than  he  has  been." 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  219 

"  lie  can  not  deny  that  tlie  treasure  has  been  stolen,  neverthe- 
less !" 

"  He  probably  can  and  will  deny  that  the  g:olden  treasure  has 
been  snatched  from  his  guardianship.  Another  Atlas  or  a  sec- 
ond Hercules  would  be  needed  for  such  a  theft." 
.  The  application  stung  him  ;  he  crimsoned,  and  retorted  with 
a  degree  of  bitterness  of  which  he  was  probably  unconscious  at 
the  moment  : 

"  You,  at  least,  dare  not  deny  my  charge,  my  truthful,  con- 
staxit  Jiancee  P' 

"  Either  you  over-estimate  my  supposed  offence  or  under-rate 
my  courage  ;  there  are  few  honorable  things  which  I  dare  not 
do." 

"  Confess,  then,  who  stands  between  your  heart  and  mine.  I 
have  a  right  to  ask  ;  I  will  know.'' 

"You  forget  yourself,  my  cousin.  Your  right  is  obviously  a 
debatable  question  ;  we  will  waive  it,  if  you  please.  I  have  told 
you  already,  and  now  I  repeat  it  for  the  last  time,  I  will  not  go 
with  you  to  the  altar,  because  neither  of  us  has  proper  affection 
for  the  other  to  warrant  such  a  union  ;  because  it  would  be  an 
infamous  pecuniary  contract,  revolting  to  every  true  soul.  I  do 
not  want  your  estate,  and  you  should  be  content  with  your  am- 
ple fortune  without  coveting  my  inheritance,  or  consenting  to  sell 
your  manhood  to  mammon.  I  would  not  suit  you  for  a  wife  ;  go 
find  some  more  congenial  spirit,  some  gentle,  clinging  girl,  who 
will  live  only  in  your  love  and  make  you  forget  all  else  in  her 
presence.  I  have  no  fancy  for  the  Gehenna  our  married  life 
would  inevitably  prove.  Henceforth  there  is  no  margin  for  mis- 
apprehension ;  understand  that  Ave  meet  in  future  as  cousins, 
only  as  cousins,  acknowledging  no  other  relationship,  no  other 
tie  save  that  of  consanguinity  ;  for  I  do  not  hesitate  to  snap  the 
links  that  were  forged  in  my  babyhood,  to  annul  the  unrighteous 
betrothal  of  other  hands.  Hugh,  cherish  no  animosity  against 
me  ;  I  merit  none.  Because  we  can  not  be  more,  shall  we  be 
less  than  friends  ?"  > 

She  held  out  her  hand,  but  he  was  too  angry  to  accept  it,  and 
asked,  haughtily  : 

"  Shall  I  break  this  pleasant  piece  of  information  to  my  un- 


220  MACAKIA  ;   OR, 

cle  ?     Or  do  you  feel  quite  equal  to  the  task  of  blighting  all  his 
long-cherished  hopes,  as  well  as  mine  ?" 

"  I  leave  it  in  jour  hands  ;  consult  your  discretion,  or  your 
pleasure  ;  to  me  it  matters  little.  Remember  my  earnest  re- 
quest, that  you  bear  me  no  malice  in  the  coming  years.  Good- 
night, my  cousin." 

She  turned  to  leave  him,  but  he  caught  her  dress,  and  ex- 
claimed, with  more  tenderness  than  he  had  ever  manifested  be- 
fore : 

"Oh,  Irene  !  do  not  reject  me  utterly  !  I  can  not  rehnquish 
you.  Give  me  one  more  year  to  prove  my  love  ;  to  win  yours. 
If  your  proud  heart  is  still  your  own,  may  I  not  hope  to  obtain 
it,  by ." 

"  No,  Hugh  I  no.  As  well  hope  to  inspire  affection  in  yon- 
der mute  marble  guardians.  Forgive  me  if  I  pain  you,  but  I 
must  be  candid  at  every  hazard."  She  pointed  to  the  statues 
near  the  door,  and  went  through  the  green-house  to  the  library, 
thence  to  the  observatory,  expecting,  ere  long,  to  be  joined  by 
her  father.  Gradually  tho  house  became  quiet,  and,  oppressed 
-with  the  painful  sense  of  coming  trouble,  she  sought  her  own 
room  just  as  the  clock  struck  twelve.  Pausing  to  count  the 
strokes,  she  saw  a  light  gleaming  through  the  key-hole  of  her 
father's  door,  opposite  her  own,  and  heard  the  sound  of  low  but 
earnest  conversation  mingled  with  the  restless  tramp  of  pacing 
feet.  She  was  powerfully  tempted  to  cross  the  passage,  knock, 
and  have  the  ordeal  ended  then  and  there  ;  but  second  thought 
whispered,  '*  To-morrow  will  soon  be  here  ;  be  patient."  She 
entered  her  room,  and,  wearied  by  the  events  of  the  day,  fell 
asleep,  dreaming  of  the  new  lot  in  the  cemetery,  and  the  lonely, 
joyless  man  who  haunted  it. 

As  she  adjusted  her  riding-habit  the  following  morning,  and 
Buffered  Andrew  to  arrange  her  stirrup,  the  latter  said,  good- 
humoredly  : 

"  So,  Mas'  Hugh  got  the  start  of  you.  It  is  n't  often  he  beats 
you." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  He  started  a  while  ago,  and,  if  he  drives  as  he  generally 
does,  he  will  get  to  his  plantation  in  time  for  dinner." 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  221 

"  Dill  fatlior  go,  too  ?" 

"  No,  ina'ra  ;  only  Mas'  Hugh,  in  bis  own  buggy." 
In  the  quiet,  leafy  hiboratory  of  nature  there  is  an  elixir  of 
strength  for  those  wise  enough  to  seek  it  ;  and  its  subtle,  vola- 
tile properties  continually  come  to  the  relief  of  wearied,  over- 
taxed brains,  and  aching,  oppressed  hearts.  The  human  frame, 
because  of  its  keen  susceptibility  to  impressions  from  the  exter- 
nal world,  and  its  curious  adaptation  thereunto,  becomes,  hke 
the  strings  of  an  ^olian  harp,  attuned  perfectly  to  the  breath 
that  sweeps  it,  and  is  by  turns  the  exponent  of  stormy  passion  or 
holy  resignation.  Thus  from  the  cool  serenity,  the  dewy  sparkle, 
and  delicate  perfume  of  the  early  morning,  Irene  derived  a  re- 
new^al  of  strength  such  as  no  purely  human  aid  could  have  fur- 
nished. She  remembered  now  the  sybillic  words  of  the  young 
minister  :  "  You,  too,  must  tread  the  wine-press  alone^''  and 
felt  that  the  garments  of  her  soul  were  taking  the  dye,  the  pur- 
ple stain  of  the  wine  of  trial.  Doubtless  he  had  alluded  to  a  dif- 
ferent ordeal,  but  she  knew  that  all  the  future  of  her  earthly  ex- 
istence was  to  receive  its  changeless  hue  from  this  day,  and  she 
could  entertain  but  a  modicum  of  doubt  as  to  what  that  hue 
would  prove.  Returning  from  her  ride,  she  stood  a  moment  on 
the  front  step,  looking  down  the  avenue.  The  bermuda  terrace 
blazed  in  the  sun-light  like  a  jewelled  coronal,  the  billowy  sea  of 
foliage,  crested  by  dewy  drops,  flashed  and  dripped  as  the  soft 
air  stirred  the  ancient  trees,  the  hedges  were  all  alive  with  birds 
and  butterflies,  the  rich  aroma  of  brilliant  and  countless  flowers, 
the  graceful  curl  of  smoke  wreathing  up  from  the  valley  beyond, 
the  measured  musical  tinkle  of  bells  as  the  cows  slowly  descend- 
ed the  distant  hills,  and,  over  all,  like  God's  mantling  mercy,  a 
summer  sky —  ^ 

"  As  blue  as  Aaron's  priestly  robe  appeared 
To  Aaron,  when  he  took  it  ofif  to  die.'' 

Involuntarily  she  stretched  out  her  arms  to  the  bending 
heavens,  and  her  lips  moved,  but  no  sound  escaped  to  tell  what 
petition  went  forth  to  the  All-Father.  She  went  to  her  room, 
changed  her  dress,  and  joined  her  father  at  the  breakfast-table. 
Half-concealed  behind  his  paper,  he  took  no  notice  of  her  quiet 


222  macaria;  or, 

"  good-morning,"  seeming  absorbed  in  an  editorial.     The  silent 
meal  ended,  he  said,  as  they  left  the  table  : 

**  I  want  to  see  tou  in  the  library," 

She  follo^yed  him  without  comment ;  he  locked  the  door,  threw 
open  the  blinds,  and  drew  two  chau's  to  the  window,  seatmg  himself 
immediately  in  front  of  her.  For  a  moment  he  eyed  her,  earnestly 
as  if  measuring  her  strength  ;  and  she  saw  the  peculiar  sparkle 
in  his  falcon  eye,  which,  like  the  first  lurid  flash  in  a  darkened 
sky,  betokened  tempests.  "  Irene,  I  was  very  much  astonished 
to  learn  the  result  of  an  interview  between  Hugh  and  yourself ; 
I  can  scarcely  believe  that  you  were  in  earnest,  and  feel  disposed 
to  attribute  your  foolish  words  to  some  trifling  motive  of  girlish 
coquetry  or  momentary  pique.  You  have  long  been  perfectly 
well  aware  that  you  and  your  cousin  were  destined  for  each 
©ther  ;  that  I  solemnly  promised  the  marriage  should  take  place  as 
>oon  as  you  were  of  age  ;  that  all  my  plans  and  hopes  for  you  cen- 
tered in  this  one  engagement.  I  have  not  pressed  the  matter  on 
your  attention  of  late,  because  I  knew  you  had  sense  enough  to 
appreciate  your  position,  and  because  I  believed  you  would  be 
guided  by  my  wislics  in  this  important  alTair.  You  are  no  longer 
a  child  ;  I  treat  you  as  a  reasonable  w^oman,  and  now  I  tell  you 
candidly  it  is  the  one  wish  of  my  heart  to  see  you  Hugh's  wife." 

He  paused,  but  she  made  no  answer,  and,  taking  one  of  her 
hands,  he  continued  :' 

"  My  daughter,  I  cannot  believe  that  you,  on  whom  I  have 
lavished  so  much  love  and  tenderness,  can  deliberately  refuse  to 
accede  to  my  wishes,  can  disappoint  my  dearest  hopes.  Of 
course,  in  all  that  I  do  or  counsel,  I  am  actuated  only  by  a 
desire  to  promote  your  happiness.  My  dear  child,  I  have  a 
Wf^t  to  direct  you,  and  surely  your  affection  for  your  only  parent 
will  induce  you  to  yield  to  his  wishes." 

He  tightened  his  clasp  of  her  cold  hand,  and  leaned  toward 
her. 

"  Father,  my  happiness  will  not  be  promoted  by  this  marriage, 
and  if  you  are  actuated  solely  by  this  motive,  allow  me  to  re- 
main just  as  I  am.  I  should  be  most  miserable  as  Hugh's  wife  ; 
most  utterly  miserable." 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  223 

*'  Why  so  r 

"  For  reasons  which  T  jravc  liim  last  niglit,  and  which  it  is 
hardly  necessary  for  mc  to  recapitulate  as  he  doubtless  repeated 
them  to  you." 

"  Let  nie  hear  them,  if  you  please." 

"  Our  characters  are  totally  dissimilar  ;  our  tastes  and  opinions 
vide  as  the  poles  asunder  ;  our  natures  could  not  possibly  har- 
monize ;  and,  more  than  all,  we  do  not  love  each  other  as  people 
should  who  stand  at  the  altar  and  ask  God's  blessiug  on  their 
marriage.  I  suppose,  sir,  that  Hugh  tells  you  he  loves  me  ; 
perhaps  he  likes  me  better  than  any  one  else  beside  himself,  but 
the  deep,  holy  affection  which  he  ought  to  feel  for  the  womau 
whom  he  calls  his  wife,  has  no  existence  in  his  heart.  It  will 
prove  a  mere  temi)orary  disappointment,  nothing  seriously  touch- 
ing his  happiness  ;  for,  I  assure  you,  that  is  not  in  my  keeping." 

"  And  if  I  answer  that  I  know  the  contrary  to  be  true  V^ 

"  Father,  I  should  still  adhere  to  my  own  opinion  ;  and,  even 
were  I  disposed  to  accept  your  view  of  it,  my  own  feelings  w^ould 
stand  an  everlasting  barrier  to  our  union.  I  do  not  love  Hugh, 
and — I  must  tell  you,  sir,  that  I  think  it  wrong  for  cousins 
to  marry." 

"  You  talk  like  a  silly  child  ;  I  thought  you  had  more  sense. 
Your  objections  I  have  listened  to  ;  they  are  imaginary  and 
trifling  ;  and  I  ask  you,  as  a  father  has  a  right  to  ask  his  child, 
to  waive  these  ridiculous  notions,  and  grant  the  only  request  I 
have  evav  made  of  you.  Tell  me,  my  daughter,  that  you  will 
consent  to  accept  your  cousin,  and  thereby  make  me  happy." 

He  stooped  and  kissed  her  forehead,  watching  her  countenance 
eagerly. 

"  Oh,  father  !  do  not  ask  this  of  me  !     Anything  else  !  anyii, 
thing  else." 

"  Answer  me,  my  darling  child  ;  give  mc  your  promise." 
His  hold  was  painful,  and  an  angry  pant  mingled  with   the 
pleading  tones.     She  raised  her  head  and  said  slowly  : 
"  My  father,  I  can  not." 
He  threw  her  hand  from  him,  and  sprang  up. 
"  "  Ingrate  I  do  you  meau  to  say  that  you  will  not  fulfil   a 


224  MACARIA  ;    OR, 

sacred  engagement  ? — that  you  will  break  an  oath  given  to  the 
dead  ?" 

"I  do  not  hold  myself  bound  by  the  oaths  of  another,  though 
he  were  twice  my  father.  I  am  responsible  for  no  acts  but  my 
own.  Xo  one  has  the  right  to  lay  his  hand  on  an  unconscious 
infant  slumbering  in  her  cradle,  and  coolly  determine,  for  all 
t^me,  her  destiny.  You  have  the  right  to  guide  me,  to  say  what 
I  shall  not  do  with  your  consent,  but  I  am  a  free-born  Ameri- 
can, thank  God  I  I  did  not  draw  my  breath  in  Circassia,  to  be 
bartered  for  gold  by  my  father.  I,  only,  can  give  myself  away. 
Why  should  you  wish  to  force  this  marriage  on  me  ?  Father, 
do  you  think  that  a  woman  has  no  voice  in  a  matter  involving 
her  happiness  for  life  ?  Is  one  of  God's  holy  sacraments  to  be- 
come a  mere  pecuniary  transa'ction  ? — only  a  legal  transfer  of 
real. estate  and  cotton  bales  ?  Oh,  my  father  !  would  you  make 
yourself  and  your  child  parties  to  so  ignoble,  so  loathsome  a 
proceeding  ?" 

"  Oh  !  I  suspected  that  your  cursed  obstinacy  would  meet  me 
here,  as  well  as  elsewhere  in  your  life.  You  have  been  a  source 
of  trouble  and  sorrow  from  your  birth  ;  but  the  time  has  come 
to  end  all  this.  I  will  not  be  trifled  with  ;  I  tried  to  reason 
with  you,  to  influence  you  through  your  affection,  but  it  seems 
you  have  none.  If  I  resort  to  other  measures  now,  you  have 
only  yourself  to  thank.  Irene,  there  can  be  peace  between  us, 
but  upon  one  condition  ;  I  have  set  my  heart  on  seemg  yo«i 
Hugh's  wife  ;  nothing  less  will  satisfy  me.  I  warn  you,  as  you 
value  your  own  happiness,  not  to  thwart  me  ;  it  is  no  trivial  risk 
that  you  run.  I  tell  you  now,  I  will  make  you  suffer  severely  if 
^ou  dare  to  disobey  me  in  this  matter.  You  know  that  I  never 
menace  idly,  and  if  you  refuse  to  hear  reason,  I  will  utterly  dis- 
inherit you,  though  you  are  my  only  child.  Ponder  it  well. 
You  have  been  raised  in  luxury,  and  taught  to  believe  yourself 
one  of  the  wealthiest  heiresses  in  the  state  ;  contrast  your 
present  position,  your  elegant  home,  your  fastidious  tastes  grati- 
fied to  the  utmost  ;  contrast  all  this,  I  say,  with  poverty — 
imagine  yourself  left  in  the  world  without  one  cent  !  Think  of 
it  !    think  of  it  !     My  wealth  is  my  own,  mark  you,  and  I  will 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  225 

give  it  to  whom  I  please,  irrespective  of  all  claims  of  custom. 
Now  the  alternat^•e  is  fully  before  you,  and  on  your  own  head 
be  the  consequences.  Will  you  accede  to  my  wishes,  as  any 
dutiful  child  should,  or  will  you  deliberately  incur  my  everlasting 
displeasure  ?     Will  you  marry  Hugh  ?" 

Both  rose,  and  stood  confronting  each  other  ;  his  face  burn- 
ing with  wrath,  every  feature  quivering  with  passion  ;  hers 
white  and  rigid  as  a  statue's,  with  only  a  blue  cord-like  crescent 
between  the  arching  brows  to  index  her  emotion.  Steadily  the 
lai-ge  violet  eyes  looked  into  those  that  regarded  her  so  angrily  ; 
there  was  no  drooping  of  the  long  silken  fringes  ;  no  moisture 
dimming  their  depths  ;  then  they  were  raised  slowly,  as  if  to  the 
throne  of  God,  registering  some  vow,  and,  pressing  her  hands 
over  her  heart,  she  said,  solemnly  : 

"  Father,  I  will  not  marry  Hugh,  so  help  me  God  !" 

Silence  fell  between  them  for  several  moments  ;  something  in 
tliat  fixed,  calm  face  of  his  child  awed  him,  but  it  was  temporary, 
and,  with  a  bitter  laugh,  he  exclaimed  : 

"  Oh,  very  well  I  Your  poverty  be  upon  your  own  head  in 
coming  years,  when  the  grave  closes  over  me.  At  my  death 
every  cent  of  my  property  passes  to  Hugh,  and  with  it  my  name, 
and  between  you  and  me,  as  an  impassable  gulf,  lies  my  everlast- 
ing displeasure.  Understand  that,  though  we  live  here  in  on^ 
house,  as  father  and  child,  I  do  not,  and  will  not,  forgive  you. 
You  have  defied  me  ;  now  eat  the  bitter  fruit  of  your  diso- 
bedience." 

"  I  have  no  desire  to  question  the  disposition  of  your  wealth  ; 
if  you  prefer  to  give  it  to  my  cousin,  I  am  willing,  perfectly  will- 
ing. I  would  rather  beg  my  bread  from  door  to  door,  proud 
though  I  am  ;  I  would  sooner  soil  my  Huntingdon  hands  by 
washing  or  cooking,  than  soil  my  soul  with  perjury,  or  sell  my- 
self for  gold.  It  is  true,  I  love  elegance  and  luxury  :  I  enjoy 
wealth  as  well  as  most  people  do,  I  suppose  ;  but  poverty  does 
not  frighten  me  half  so  much  as  a  loveless  marriage.  Give  Hugh 
your  fortune,  if  you  wish,  but,  father  I  father  !  let  there  be  no 
estrangement  between  you  and  me.  I  can  bear  everything  but 
your  displeasure  ;  I  dread  nothing  so  much  as  the  loss  of  your 


226  MAC  ART  A  ;    OR, 

love.  •  Oh,  father  !  forgive  a  disappointment  which  my  con- 
science would  not  permit  me  to  avert.  Forgive  the  pain  which,^^ 
God  knows,  I  would  not  have  caused  you,  if  I  could  have  avoided 
it  without  compromising  principle.  Oh,  my  father  !  my  father  1 
let  not  dollars  and  cents  stand  between  you  and  your  only  child. 
I  ask  nothing  now  but  your  love." 

She  drew  nearer,  but  he  waved  her  off  and  said,  with  a  sneer- 
ing laugh  : 

"  Away  with  all  such  cant  !  I  gave  you  the  choice,  and  you 
made  your  selection  with  your  eyes  fully  open.  Accept  poverty 
as  your  doom,  and  with  it  my  eternal  displeasure.  I  intend  to 
make  you  suffer  for  your  obstinacy.  You  shall  find,  to  your 
sorrow,  that  I  am  not  to  be  trifled  with,  or  my  name  is  not 
Leonard  Huntingdon.  Now  go  your  own  way,  and  find  what 
a  thorny  path  you  have  made  for  yourself." 

He  pointed  to  the  door  as  he  had  done,  years  before,  when  the 
boarding-school  decree  went  forth,  and  without  remonstrance  she 
left  him,  and  sat  down  on  the  steps  of  the  green-house.  Soon 
after,  the  sound  of  his  buggy  wheels  told  her  that  he  had  gone 
to  town,  and,  leaning  her  cheek  on  her  hand,  she  recalled  the 
painful  conversation  from  first  to  last.  That  he  meant  all  he 
had  threatened,  and  more,  she  did  not  question  for  an  instant, 
and,  thinking  of  her  future,  she  felt  sick  at  heart.  But  with  the 
shame  and  sorrow  came,  also,  a  thrill  of  joy  ;  she  had  burst  the 
fetters  :  she  was  free.  Wounded  affection  bled  freely,  but  brain 
and  conscience  exulted  in  the  result.  She  could  not  reproach 
herself  ;  slie  resolved  not  to  reproach  her  father,  even  in  thought. 
Hers  was  not  a  disposition  to  vent  its  griefs  and  troubles  in 
tears  ;  these  had  come  to  her  relief  but  three  or  four  times  in  the 
course  of  a  life,  and  on  this  occasion  she  felt  as  little  inclination 
to  cry  as  to  repine  idly  over  what  could  not  be  rectified.  Her 
painful  reverie  was  interrupted  by  the  click  of  approaching 
crutches,  and  she  rose  to  meet  her  uncle. 

"  Do  not  get  up,  Irene  ;  I  will  sit  here  beside  you.  My  child, 
look  at  me — are  you  sick  ?'' 

"  No,  uncle  Eric ;  what  put  that  absurd  notion  into  your 
bead  ?  I  rode  past  your  door  two  hours  ago,  and  was  power- 
fully tempted  to  stop  and  breakfast  with  your  bachelorship." 


ALTARS    OV   SACKIFICE.  227 

He  rop^ardod  her  anxiously,  noting  the  singular  crescent  on  her 
pale  foreliead,  and  connecting  it  with  the  scowling  face  of  his 
^•other-in-law,  which  had  |)assed  him  on  the  avenue.  He  knew 
that  something  very  unusual  had  excited  th^  calm,  inflexible  wo- 
man till  the  hot  blood  swelled  that  vein,  but  he  forebore  all 
question. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of,  uncle  Eric  ?" 

"  Only  of  a  line  in  a  poem  which  I  was  reading  last?  night. 
Shall  I  quote  it  for  you  ? 

"  *  A  still  Medasa,  with  mild  milky  brows 
All  curled .'  " 

She  looked  in  his  face,  smiled,  and  passed  her  hand  over  her 
forehead,  hiding  the  blue  cord. 

"  Ah  I  a  gentle  way  of  reading  me  a  lecture  on  ill-temper.  I 
lay  no  claim  to  saintship,  you  know,  and  when  I  am  out  of  humor 
my  face  won't  play  the  hypocrite.  I  am  no  Griselda  ;  obviously 
none  of  my  name  can  ever  expect  canonization  on  that  score. 
Come  to  the  conservatory  ;  the  lemons  are  in  full  bloom,  and 
marvellously  sweet.  Put  your  hand  on  my  shoulder,  and  come 
down  slowly." 

"  Where  is  Hugh  ?     I  thought  he  came  home  yesterday  ?" 

"  He  started  to  his  plantation  at  daylight.  Take  care,  sir  ; 
these  flags  are  slippery  with  dew  ;  your  crutches  arc  unsafe." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

"  To-WHiT — to  whoo  I"  Munin  stretched  his  broad  gray  wings, 
and,  quitting  the  mantle-piece,  perched  upon  the  top  of  the  easel, 
gazing  down  at  the  solitary  artist,  and  uttering  all  the  while  a 
subdued  melancholy  note  of  complaint,  as  if  to  attract  her  at- 
tention.    She  looked  up  and  held  out  her  hand,  coaxingly. 

"  Munin  !  Munin  I  what  do  you  want  ?  You  haunt  me  like 
my  shadow.  Poor  pet,  true  to  your  name,  you  pine  for  your 
master." 


228  macarta;  or, 

« 

The  ruffled  plumes  smoothed  themselves,  the  plaiut  was  hushed. 
He  fluttered  to  her  shoulder,  received  her  soft,  caressing  touches 
with  evident  satisfaction,  nestled  his  beak  in  her  shining  hair,  and 
then,  as  if  soothed  and  contented,  flitted  to  the  open  window. 
Resuming  her  brush,  Electra  leaned  forward  and  continued  her 
work.  ''  Labor  art  est  or  are  ■'^  if  so,  no  more  ardent  devotee 
ever  bowed  at  the  shrine  of  toil,  bearing  sacrificial  offerings. 
Thoughts,  hopes,  aspirations,  memories,  all  centered  in  the 
chosen  profession  ;  to  its  prosecution  she  brought  the  strength 
and  energy  of  an  indomitable  will,  the  rich  and  varied  resources 
of  a  well-stored  brilliant  intellect.  It  was  evident  that  she 
labored  con  ainore,  and  now  the  expectation  of  approaching 
triumph  lent  additional  eagerness  to  her  manner.  The  fingers 
trembled,  the  eyes  sparkled  unwontcdly,  a  deeper,  richer  crim- 
son glowed  on  the  smooth  cheeks,  and  the  lips  parted  and  closed 
unconsciously.  The  tantalizing  dreams  of  childhood,  beautiful 
but  evanescent,  had  gradually  embodied  themselves  in  a  palpa- 
ble, tangible,  glorious  reality  ;  and  the  radiant  woman  exulted 
in  the  knowledge  that  she  had  but  to  put  forth  her  hand  and 
grasp  it.  The  patient  work  of  twelve  months  drew  to  a  close  ; 
the  study  of  years  bore  its  first  fruit  :  the  last  delicate  yet  quiv- 
ering touch  was  given  ;  she  threw  down  palette  and  brush,  and, 
stepping  back,  surveyed  the  canvas.  The  Exhibition  would 
open  within  two  days,  and  this  was  to  be  her  contribution.  A 
sad-eyed  Cassandra,  with  pallid,  prescient,  woe-struck  features — 
an  over-mastering  face,  wherein  the  flickering  light  of  divination 
struggled  feebly  with  the  human  horror  of  the  To-Come,  whose 
hideous  mysteries  were  known  only  to  the  royal  prophetess.  In 
mute  and  stern  despair  it  looked  out  from  the  canvas,  a  curious 
anomalous  thing — cut  adrift  from  human  help,  bereft  of  aid  from 
heaven — yet,  in  its  doomed  isolation,  scorning  to  ask  the  sym- 
pathy which  its  extraordinary  loveliness  extorted  from  all  who 
saw  it.  The  artist's  pride  in  this,  her  first  finished  creation,  might 
well  be  pardoned,  for  she  was  fully  conscious  that  the  cloud- 
region  of  a  painful  novitiate  lay  far  beneath  her  ;  that  hence- 
forth she  should  never  miss  the  pressure  of  long-coveted  chaplets 
from  her  brow  ;  that  she  should  bask  in  the  warm,  fructifying 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  229 

rays  of  public  fiivor  ;  and  measureless  exultation  flashed  in  her 
beautiful  eyes.  The  torch  of  Genius  burned  brightly,  as  buoy- 
ant and  eager,  she  took  her  place  in  the  great  lampadrorae  of 
life  ;  but  would  it  endure  till  the  end  ?  Would  it  light  up  the 
goal  standing  upon  the  terminus  of  Time  ? 

The  door  opened,  and  Russell  came  into  the  studio.  She  was 
not  expecting  him  ;  his  sudden  appearance  gave  her  no  time  to 
adjust  the  chilling  mask  of  pride,  and  all  her  uncontrolled  affec- 
tion found  eloquent  language  in  the  joyful  face. 

"  Russell  I  my  own  dear  Russell  I" 

He  drew  his  arm  around  her  and  kissed  her  flushed  cheek,  and 
each  looked  at  the  other,  wondering  at  the  changes  which  years 
had  wrought. 

"  Electra,  you  have  certainly  improved  more  than  any  one  I 
ever  knew.  You  look  the  impersonation  of  perfect  health  ;  it  is 
needless  to  ask  how  you  are."  And  again  his  lips  touched  the 
beaming  face  pressed  against  his  shoulder.  Her  arms  stole  trem- 
blingly around  his  neck,  past  indifference  was  forgotten  in  the 
joy  of  his  presence,  and"  she  murmured  : 

"  I  thought  I  should  not  see  you  before  I  left  America.  I  can 
not  tell  you  what  a  pleasure  this  surprise  is  to  me.  Oh,  Russell  I 
I  longed  inexpressibly  to  be  with  you  once  more.  Thank  you,  a 
thousand  times,  for  coming  to  me  at  last." 

"  Did  you  suppose  that  I  intended  to  let  you  put  the  Atlantic 
between  us  without  making  an  effort  to  see  you  again  ?  Were 
you  unjust  enough  to  believe  that  I  had  forgotten  the  only  rela- 
tive whom  I  love  ?  My  dear  little  sceptic,  I  have  come  to  prove 
my  affection,  and  put  yours  to  the  test." 

He  pressed  her  closer  to  his  heart,  but  suddenly  she  shrank 
from  him,  unclasped  his  arm,  and,  wheeling  two  chairs  to  the 
window,  said,  hurriedly  : 

"  Sit  down,  and  let  me  look  at  you.  You  have  grown  so  tall 
and  commanding  that  I  am  half-afraid  of  my  own  cousin.  You 
r/o  less  like  aunt  Amy  than  formerly." 

"  Allow  me  to  look  at  your  painting  first,  for  it  will  soon  be 
too  dark  to  examine  it.  This  is  the  Cassandra  of  which  you 
wrote  me." 


230  macaria;  or, 

He  stood  before  it  for  some  moments  in  silence,  and  she  watch- 
ed him  with  breathless  eagerness — for  his  opinion  was  of  more 
value  to  her  than  that  of  all  the  dilettanti  and  connoisseurs  who 
would  soon  inspect  it.  Gradually  his  dark,  cold  face  kindled, 
and  she  had  her  reward. 

"  It  is  a  masterly  creation  ;  a  thing  of  wonderful  and  imper- 
ishable beauty  ;  it  is  a  great  success — as  such  the  world  will  re- 
ceive it — and  hundreds  will  proclaim  your  triumph.  I  am  proud 
of  it,  and  doubly  proud  of  you." 

He  held  out  his  hand,  and,  as  she  put  her  fingers  in  his,  her 
head  drooped,  and  hot  tears  blinded  her.  Praise  from  the  lips 
she  loved  best  stirred  her  womanly  heart  as  the  applause  of  the 
public  could  never  do  ;  and,  in  after  years,  when  grief  and  lone- 
liness oppressed  her,  these  precious  words  rang  sweet  and  silvery 
through  the  darkened  chambers  of  her  soul,  working  miracles 
of  comfort  infinitely  beyond  the  potent  spell  of  Indian  0-U-M, 
or  mystic  Agin.  Without  perceiving  her  emotion  he  continued, 
with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  pictui'e  : 

"  Some  day  you  must  make  me  a  copj,  and  I  will  hang  it  over 
the  desk  in  my  office,  where  I  can  feast  my  eyes  on  its  rare  love- 
liness and  my  ears  with  your  praises,  from  all  who  see  it.  How 
long  have  you  been  at  work  upon  it  ?" 

"  I  can't  recall  the  time  when  it  first  took  hold  of  my  imagi- 
nation ;  it  paced  by  my  side  when  I  was  a  child,  brooded  over 
me  in  my  troubled  dreams,  looked  out  from  the  pomp  of  summer 
clouds  and  the  dripping  drab  skies  of  winter,  floated  on  snow- 
flakes,  and  flashed  in  thunder-storms  ;  but  I  outlined  it  about  a 
year  ago.  For  my  exhibition  picture,  I  wavered  long  between 
this  and  an  unfinished  Antigone  ;  but  finally  decided  in  favor  of 
Cassandra." 

"  And  selected  wisely.  While  in  Europe  I  saw,  in  a  private 
house,  an  exquisite  head  of  the  '  Erythraean  Sybil/  which  some- 
what resembles  your  painting.  The  position  is  ahnost  identical 
—the  nose,  mouth,  and  chin  very  similar  ;  but  the  glory  of  this 
Cassandra  is  the  supernatural  eyes,  brimful  of  prescience.  It 
might  afford  matter  for  curious  speculation,  however,  and  some 
time  we  will  trace  the  subtle  law  of  association  of  ideas  by  which 


ALTAKS    OK    8ACKIFICK.  231 

two  artists,  separated  by  the  Atlantic,  and  by  centuries,  chanced, 
nnder  totally  different  circumstances,  to  portray  similarly  the 
two  distinct  prophetesses  avIio  both  foretold  the  doom  of  Troy." 

"  If  such  is  the  case,  the  world  will  be  very  sceptical  of  the 
coincidence.  I  did  not  even  know  that  there  was  an  '  EryfJi- 
rcLan  Sybil/much  less  a  picture  of  her  ;  so  much  for  ignorance  ! 
The  critics  who  knew  that  I  did  not  paint  your  portrait,  simply 
because  it  was  well  done,  will  swear  that  I  stole  the  whole  of 
my  Cassandra,"  answered  Elcctra,  perplexed  and  troubled. 

"  You  need  not  look  so  rueful,  and  plough  your  forehead  with 
that  heavy  frown.  In  all  probability  I  am  the  only  person  in 
New  York  who  has  seen  the  other  picture  ;  and,  granting  the 
contrary,  the  resemblance  might  not  be  detected.  If  you  suffer 
it  to  annoy  you  I  shall  be  sorry  that  I  mentioned  it.  Yet,  I 
doubt  not,  the  withering  charge  of  plagiarism  has  often  been 
hurled  in  the  face  of  an  honest  worker,  quite  as  unjustly  as  it 
would  be  in  your  case.  Yery  startling  coincidences  sometimes 
occur  most  innocently  ;  but  carping  envy  is  a  thrifty  plant,  and 
flourishes  on  an  astonishingly  small  amount  of  soil." 

"  Who  painted  that  Sibyl  V 

"  It  is  not  known  positively.  Traveling  through  the  north- 
ern part  of  France,  I  was  detained  some  hours  at  a  village,  and 
employed  the  delay  in  rambling  about  the  suburbs.  Following 
a  winding  road  it  brought  me  to  the  enclosure  of  a  chateau,  and 
I  leaned  on  the  fence  and  admired  the  parterre,  which  was  un- 
commonly pretty.  The  owner  happened  to  be  among  his  flower 
beds,  saw  me,  and,  with  genuine  French  politeness  and  urbanity, 
insisted  that  I  should  enter  and  rest  myself  while  he  gathered 
me  a  bouquet  of  mignonette  and  pinks.  The  afternoon  was 
warm,  and  I  asked  for  a  glass  of  water.  He  took  me  into  the 
house,  and  on  the  parlor  wall  hung  this  picture.  It  riveted  my 
attention,  and  flattered,  doubtless,  by  my  evident  admiration,  he 
^ave  me  its  history.  His  father  had  found  it  at  a  picture-shop 
in  Germany,  I  forget  now  exactly  where,  and  bought  it  for  n 
Dolce,  but  doubted  its  genuineness  ;  and  my  host,  who  seemed 
thoroughly  aufait  in  Art  matters,  asserted  that  it  belonged  to 


232  macaria;  ob, 

a  much  earlier  school.     That  is  all  that  I  or  the  owner  know  of 
it  ;  so  dismiss  the  subject  from  your  mind." 

"  I  shall  not,  I  promise  you.  Give  me  minute  directions,  and 
I  will  hunt  up  chateau,  mignonette,  gentlemanly  proprietor, 
Sibyl,  and  all.  Who  knows  but  metempsychosis  may  be  true 
after  all,  and  that  the  painter's  soul  possesses  me  bodily,  striving 
to  portray  the  archetype  which  haunted  him  in  the  last  stage  of 
existence  ?  According  to  Yaughan,  the  Portuguese  have  a 
superstition  that  the  soul  of  a  man  who  has  died  leaving  some 
duty  unfulfilled,  or  promised  work  unfinished,  is  frequently  known 
to  enter  into  another  person,  and  dislodging  for  a  time  the  right- 
ful soul-occupant,  impel  him  unconsciously  to  complete  what 
was  lacking." 

"  You  are  growing  positively  paganish,  Electra,  from  con- 
stant association  with  the  dead  deities  of  classic  ages,  and  I 
must  reclaim  you.  Come,  sit  down,  and  tell  me  something  of 
your  life,  since  the  death  of  your  friend,  Mr.  Clifton." 

"  Did  you  receive  my  last  letter,  giving  an  account  of  Mrs. 
Clifton's  death  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  just  as  I  stepped  upon  the  platform  of  the  cars  it  was 
handed  to  me.  I  liad  heard  nothing  from  you  for  so  long,  that 
I  thought  it  was  time  to  look  after  you." 

"  You  had  started,  then,  before  you  knew  that  I  was  going 
to  Europe  ?" 

"Ye5." 

He  could  not  understand  the  instantaneous  change  which  came 
over  her  countenance — the  illumination,  followed  as  suddenly  by 
a  smile,  half  compassionate,  half  bitter.  She  pressed  one  hand 
to  her  heart,  and  said  : 

"  Mrs.  Clifton  never  seemed  to  realize  her  son's  death,  though, 
after  paralysis  took  place,  and  she  became  speechless,  I  thought 
she  recovered  her  memory  in  some  degree.  She  survived  him 
just  four  mouths,  and,  doubtless,  was  saved  much  grief  by  her 
unconsciousness  of  what  had  occurred.  Poor  old  lady  !  she 
suffered  little  for  a  year  past,  and  died,  I  hope,  without  pain. 
I  have  the  consolation  of  knowina:  that  I  did  all  that  oould  be 
done  to  promote  her  comfort.     Russell,  I  would  not  live  here 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  233 

for  any  consideration  ;  notliinj^  but  a  sense  of  duty  has  detained 
me  this  long-.  I  promised  him  that  I  would  not  forsake  his 
mother.  But  you  can  have  no  adequate  conception  of  the  feeling 
of  desolation  which  t»omes  over  me  when  I  sit  here  during  the  lonjr 
eyenings.  He  seems  watching  me  from  picture-frames  and 
pedestals  ;  his  face,  his  pleading,  patient,  wan  face,  haunts  me 
perpetually.  And  yet  I  tried  to  make  him  happy  ;  God  knows 
I  did  my  duty." 

She  sprang  up,  and  paced  the  room  for  some  moments,  with 
her  hands  behind  her,  and  tears  glittering  on  her  cheeks. 
Pausing  at  last  on  the  rug,  she  pointed  to  a  large  square  object 
closely  shrouded,  and  added  : 

"Yonder  stands  his  last  picture,  unfinished.  The  day  he 
died  he  put  a  few  feeble  strokes  upon  it,  and  bequeathed  the 
completion  of  the  task  to  me.  For  several  years  he  worked 
occasionally  on  it,  but  much  remains  to  be  done.  It  is  the 
'  Death  of  Socrates.'  I  have  not  even  looked  at  it  since  that 
night  ;  I  do  not  intend  to  touch  it  until  after  I  visit  Italy  ;  I 
doubt  whether  my  hand  will  ever  be  steady  enough  to  give  the 
last  strokes.  Oh,  Russell  !  the  olden  time,  the  cottage  days 
seem  far,  far  off  to  me  now  !" 

Leaning  against  the  mantel-piece,  she  dropped  her  head  on 
her  hand,  but  when  he  approached  and  stood  at  the  opposite 
corner  he  saw  that  the  tears  had  dried. 

"Neither  of  us  has  had  a  sunny  life,  Electra  ;  both  have  had 
numerous  obstacles  to  contend  with  ;  both  have  very  bitter 
memories.  Originally  there  was  a  certain  parallelism  in  our 
characters,  but  with  our  growth  grew  the  divergence.  You 
have  preserved  the  nobler  part  of  your  nature  ])etter  than  I  ; 
for  my  years  I  am  far  older  than  you  ;  none  of  the  brightness  of 
my  boyhood  seems  to  linger  about  ule.  Contact  with  the  world 
is  an  indurating  process  ;  I  really  did  not  know  how  hard  I  had 
grown,  until  I  felt  my  heart  soften  at  sight  of  you.  I  need  you 
to  keep  the  kindly  charities  and  gentle  amenities  of  life  before 
me,  and,  therefore,  I  have  come  for  you.  But  for  my  poverty 
I  never  would  have  given  you  up  so  long  ;  I  felt  that  it  would 
be  for  your  advantage,  in  more  than  one  respect,  to  remam  with 


234  macaeia;  or, 

Mr.  Clifton  until  I  had  acquired  my  profession.  I  knew  that 
you  would  enjoy  privileges  here,  which  I  could  not  give  you  in 
my  straightened  circumstances.  Things  have  changed  ;  Mr. 
Carapbell  has  admitted  me  to  partnership  ;  my  success  I  con- 
sider an  established  fact.  Give  up,  for  a  season,  this  projected 
tour  of  Europe  ;  wait  till  I  can  go  with  you  ;  till  I  can  take  you  ; 

go  back  to  W with  me.     You  can  continue  your  art-studies, 

if  you  wish  it  ;  you  can  prosecute  them  there  as  well  as  here. 
You  are  ambitious,  Electra  ;  so  am  I,  let  us  work  together." 

She  raised  her  head  and  looked  up  at  the  powerful,  nobly- 
proportioned  form,  the  grand,  kingly  face,  calm  and  colorless, 
the  large,  searching  black  eyes,  within  whose  baffling  depths  lay 
all  the  mysteries  of  mesmerism,  and  a  spasm  of  pain  seized  her 
own  features.     She  shaded  her  brow,  and  answered  : 

"  Xo,  Russell  ;  I  could  not  entertain  that  thought  an  instant," 

"  Are  you  too  proud  to  accept  a  home  from  me  ?" 

"  Xot  too  proud,  exactly  ;  but,  as  long  as  I  have  health,  I 
mean  to   make  a  support.     I  will  not  burden  you." 

"  What  bunglers  you  women  arc  at  logic  !  The  thought  of 
living  on  my  charity  affrights  you,  and  yet  you  fly  from  me  to 
the  cold  charity  of  the  world — for  what  else  is  fleeting,  fickle 
public  favor — fitful  public  patronage  or  praise  ?" 

"  Full  value  received  for  benefit  rendered,  is  not  charity  ;  be- 
side, Russell,  you,  too,  seek  and  subsist  upon  this  same  fickle 
public  favor." 

"  Partially,  I  grant  you  ;  but  I  ground  my  claims  far  deeper 
than  you  ;  I  strike  down,  taking  root  in  the  substratum  of  sel- 
fishness. Interest,  individual  interest,  is  the  outpost  of  which  I 
am  paid  to  be  the  sentinel  ;  stern  necessity  is  my  guardian  angel, 
compelling  all  men  to  sec  that  my  wages  are  inviolate.  I  stand 
in  the  great  brain-market  place,  and  deal  with  mankind  in  the 
normal,  every-day  manifestations  of  avarice,  selfishness,  or  hate  ; 
profit  and  loss  the  theme— dollars  or  blood  the  currency.  M. 
Quetelet,  one  of  the  most  eminent  statisticians  of  Europe,  has 
proved  that,  in  a  given  population,  a  given  number  of  crimes  will 
annually  be  committed  ;  so  you  see  that,  in  this  market,  also, 
production  keeps  pace  with  consumption,  and  legal  counsel  is 


*  ^   ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  235 

necessitatod.  On  the  contrary,  yon  address  yourself  to  a  class 
of  emotions  flnctuating  and  sliort-lived — common  to  compara- 
tively few — involving  no  questions  of  utility — luxuries  not  neces- 
sities. Yours  is  a  profession  of  contingencies  ;  not  so  mine  ;  for 
injustice,  duplicity,  theft,  are  every-«Iay,  settled  certainties.  A 
man  will  give  me  one  half  of  his  estate  to  save  the  other,  which 
the  chicane  of  his  neighbor  threatens." 

"  And  if  that  villainous,  avaricious  neighbor  had  emploved 
you  half  an  hour  before  the  injured  man  sought  to  engage  your 
services  ?" 

"  Why,  then  the  lawyer  next  in  his  estimation  gets  the  case,  and 
it  is  resolved  into  a  simple  question  of  his  superior  adroitness,  acu- 
men, and  industry,  or  mine.  Tiie  world  is  hard  upon  lawyers,  its 
faithful  servants,  and  holds  them  up  as  moral  monsters  to  the 
very  children  whose  mouths  their  labor  fills  with  bread.  Au 
erroneous  and  most  unjust  impression  prevails  that  a  lawyer  of 
ability,  plus  extensive  practice,  equals  Bacon,  Jeffries,  Ijupey,  or 
some  other  abnormal  disgrace  to  jurisprudence  ;  whereas,  the 
sole  object  of  the  institution  of  law  is  to  secure  right,  justice, 
and  truth.  You  are  opening  your  lips  to  ask  if  the  last  is  not 
often  wilfully  suppressed  ?  Remember  that  even  the  Twelve 
found  a  Judas  among  their  numb^,  and  the  provision  of  counsel 
is  to  elicit  truth,  and  all  the  truth,  on  both  sides.  I  bring  testi- 
mony in  defence  of  all  that  is  susceptible  of  proof  in  ray  client's 
favor,  and  it  is  the  business  of'the  opposite  counsel  to  do  like- 
wise ;  if  he  neglects  his  duty,  or,  through  lack  of  intellect,  suffers 
me  to  gain  the  case,  even  against  real  justice,  am  I  culpable  ?  I 
did  my  duty  ;  he  failed  to  defend  his  cause,  however  righteous, 
and  on  his  shoulders  rest  the  turpitude." 

"  Ah,  Russell  !  you  have  taken  a  diploma  in  the  school  of 
sophistry." 

''  I  am  content  that  you  should  think  so,  since  a  recent  great 
historian  has  decided  that  the  Sophists  were  a  sadly  maligned 
sect,  and,  instead  of  becoming  a  synonyme  of  reproach,  merited 
the  everlasting  gratitude  of  mankind,  as  the  tireless  public  teach- 
ers of  Greece — the  walking-school  system  of  Athens  in  her  im- 
perial, palmy  days." 


236  MACARIA  ;  OR, 

*'  I  never  will  believe  that !  I  wish  to  heaven  archseologTsts 
would  let  the  dust  of  Athens  rest,  instead  of  ploughing  it  up  pe- 
riodically with  the  sacrilegious  shares  of  newfangled  theories." 

"  And  thereby  exhuming  the  mouldering  bones  of  some  of 
your  favorite  divinities,  I  suppose  ?  The  literary  philhellenism 
of  the  present  age,  and  especially  its  philologic  tendency,  is  fast 
hunting  the  classic  spectres  of  the  heroic  times  into  primeval 
shade.  01dfog}'ism  in  literature  is  considered,  I  believe,  quite  as 
unpardonable  as  in  politics.  Take  care  how  you  handle  the 
Sophists,  for  I  hold  that  they  differed  in  but  one  respect  from 
your  hero,  Socrates." 

"  You  shall  not  insult  his  memory  by  any  such  disgraceful  as- 
sociation," interrupted  his  cousin. 

"  And  that  difference,"  he  continued,  without  heeding  her, 
"  consists  in  the  fact  that  they  taught  for  money,  while  he  .sconi- 
ed  to  accept  remuneration.  Sydney  Smith  maintains  that  '  So- 
crates invented  common  sense  two  thousand  years  ago,  as  Ceres 
invented  the  plough,  and  Bacchus  intoxication.'  I  should  re- 
ceive the  dicfum  more  readily  if  he  had  pocketed  the  honest 
wages  of  his  talents,  instead  of  deluding  himself  with  the  belief 
that  he  was  the  heaven-appointed  regenerator  of  Athens,  and 
making  his  labors  purely  eleemosynary,  to  the  possible  detriment 
of  his  family.  Who  knows  but  that,  after  all,  Xantippe  deserv- 
ed a  place  in  martyrology,  having  been  driven  to  paroxysms  of 
rage  and  desperation  by  an  empty  purse,  or  wretched  household 
derangements,  victhnized  by  her  husband's  cosmopolitan  mission  ; 
for  it  is  a  notorious  fact  that  men  who  essay  to  manage  the  opin- 
ions of  the  world  invariably  neglect  their  domestic  affairs,  and 
allow  them  to  run  to  ruin." 

"  Five,  years  ago  you  would  not  have  said  that,  Rnssell,  and  I 
think  it  questionable  whether  you  believe  it  all  now.  I  hold  my 
profession  a  nobler  one  than  yours,  and  dispute  your  predicate 
that  it  involves  no  utility.  Whatever  tends  to  exalt,  to  purify, 
to  ennoble,  is  surely  useful  ;  and  aesthetics,  properly  directed,  is 
one  of  the  most  powerful  engines  of  civilization.  See  what  it 
wrought  for  Athens." 

"  You  mistake  effect  for  cause.     The  freedom  of  Athens  was 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  237 

the  lever  which  raised  it  to  such  a  pitch  of  glory  ;  as  a  sequence, 
the  arts  flourished  and  beauty  was  apotheosized.  When  freedom 
perished  the  arts  received  their  death-blow,  and,  impotent  to 
preserve  the  prosperity  of  the  city,  shed  a  lingering  halo  around 
its  melancholy  but  majestic  ruins.  That  aesthetics  and  utility 
are  synonymes,  is  an  axiom  which  might  find  acceptation  in 
*  Bensalem  •/  but  in  this  intensely  practical,  mechanical  epoch  of 
human  history,  and  this  money-making  quarter  of  the  globe,  you 
must  educate  the  masses  up  to  an  entirely  difl'erent  level,  before 
you  can  expect  them  to  receive  it." 

"  And,  so  far  as  my  feeble  influence  extends,  or  my  limited 
ability  will  permit,  I  purpose  to  become  such  a  teacher.  Do  not 
laugh  at  me,  Russell,  I  beg  of  you." 

"  I  smile  at  the  beautiful  dream,  rather  than  the  enthusiastic 
dreamer.  So,  doubtless,  dreamed  Phidias,  Praxiteles,  and  the 
Rhodian  Trio,  and  only  a  few  time-corroded  blocks  of  marble 
remain  in  attestation.     Cui  bono  .?" 

"  Yours  and  mine  I — for  dead  nations,  and  for  generations 
yet  unborn,  who  shall  gaze  upon  their  noble  and  imperishable 
monuments.  You  are  worse  than  Goth  or  Vandal,  if  you  can 
ignore  their  softening,  spiritualizing  influence — for  even  they, 
rude  and  untutored,  bowed  before  their  immortal  beauty.  What 
has  come  over  you,  Russell,  hardening  your  nature,  and  sealing 
the  sources  of  genial,  genuine  appreciation  ?" 

"  The  icy  breath  of  experience,  the  crystalizing  touch  of  years. 
You  must  not  be  so  severe  upon  me,  Electra  ;  many  a  time, 
since  we  parted,  I  have  left  my  desk  to  watch  a  gorgeous  sunset, 
and  for  a  few  minutes  fancy  myself  once  more  leaning  on  the 
garden-gate  of  my  early  home.  1  love  beauty,  but  I  subordinate 
it  to  the  practical  utilities  of  life.  I  have  little  time  for  aesthetic 
musings  ;  I  live  among  disenchanting,  common-place  realities.  It 
is  woman's  province  and  prerogative  to  gather  up  the  links  of 
beauty,  and  bind  them  as  a  garland  round  her  home  ;  to  fill  it 
with  the  fragrance  of  dewy  flowers,  the  golden  light  of  western 
skies,  the  low,  soothing  strains  of  music,  which  can  chant  all  care 
to  rest  ;  which  will  drown  the  clink  of  dollars  and  cents,  and 
lead  a  man's  thoughts  to  purer,  loftier  themes.     Ah  !  there  is  no 


238  MACARIA  ;   OR, 

apocalypse  of  joy  and  peace  like  a  happy  home,  where  a  woman 
of  elegance  and  refinement  goes  to  and  fro.  This  recalls  the  ob- 
ject of  my  visit.  You  say,  truly,  that  full  value  received  for 
benefit  rendered  is  not  charity  ;  apply  your  principle,  come  to 

W ,  share  my  future,  and  what  fortune  I  may  find  assigned 

mo.  I  have  bought  the  cottage,  and  intend  to  build  a  handsome 
house  tliere  some  day,  where  you  and  Mr.  Campbell,  and  I  can 
live  peacefully.  You  shall  twine  your  aesthetic  fancies  all  about 
it,  to  make  it  picturesque  enough  to  suit  your  fastidious  artistic 
taste.  Come,  and  save  me  from  what  you  consider  my  worse 
than  vandalian  proclivities.  I  came  here  simply  and  solely  in  the 
hope  of  prevailing  on  you  to  return  with  me.  I  make  this  re- 
quest, not  because  I  think  it  will  be  expected  of  me,  but  for 
more  selfish  reasons — because  it  is  a  matter  resting  very  near  my 
heart." 

"  Oh,  Russell  !  you  tempt  me." 

"  I  wish  to  do  so.  My  blood  beats  in  your  veins  ;  you  are 
the  only  relative  I  value,  and  were  you  indeed  my  sister,  I  should 
scarcely  love  you  more.  With  all  a  brother's  interest,  why 
should  I  not  claim  a  brother's  right  to  keep  you  with  me,  at 
least  until  you  find  your  Pylades,  and  give  him  a  higher  claim 
before  God  and  man  ?  Electra,  were  I  your  brother,  you  would 
require  no  persuasion  ;  why  hesitate  now  ?" 

She  clasped  her  hands  behind  her,  as  if  for  support  in  some 
fiery  ordeal,  and,  gathering  up  her  strength,  spoke  rapidly,  like 
one  who  fears  that  resolution  will  fail  before  some  necessary  sen- 
tence is  pronounced. 

"  You  are  very  kind  and  generous,  Russell,  and  for  all  that 
you  have  ofi*ered  me  I  thank  you  from  the  depth  of  a  full  heart. 
The  consciousness  of  your  continued  interest  and  affection  is  in- 
expressibly precious  ;  but  my  disposition  is  too  much  like  your 
own  to  suffer  me  to  sit  down  in  idleness,  while  there  is  so  much 
to  be  done  in  the  world.  I,  too,  want  to  earn  a  noble  reputa- 
tion, which  will  survive  long  after  I  have  been  gathered  to  my 
fathers  ;  I  want  to  accomplish  some  work,  looking  upon  which, 
my  fdlow-crcatures  will  proclaim  :  *  That  woman  has  not  lived 
in  vain  ;  the  world  is  better  and  happier  because  she  came  and 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  230 

labored  in  it.'  I  want  my  name  carved,  not  on  monumental 
marble  only,  but  upon  the  living,  throbbing  heart  of  my  age  !— 
stamped  indelibly  on  the  generation  in  which  my  lot  is  cast. 
Perhaps  I  am  too  sanguine  of  success  ;  a  grievous  disappohit- 
mcnt  may  await  all  my  ambitious  hopes,  but  failure  will  come 
from  want  of  genius,  not  lack  of  persevering,  patient  toil.  Upon 
the  threshold  of  my  career,  facing  the  loneliness  of  coming  years, 
I  resign  that  hope  with  which,  like  a  golden  thread,  most  women 
embroider  their  future.  I  dedicate  myself,  my  life,  unreservedly 
to  Art.'' 

"  You  believe  that  you  will  be  happier  among  the  marble  and 
canvas  of  Italy  than  in  W with  me  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  I  shall  be  better  Satisfied  there.  All  my  life  it  has 
gleamed  afar  off,  a  glorious  land  of  promise  to  my  eager,  long- 
ing spirit.  From  childhood  I  have  cherished  the  hope  of  reach- 
ing it,  and  the  fruition  is  near  at  hand.  Italy  !  bright  Alma 
Mater  of  the  art  to  which  I  consecrate  my  years.  Do  you  won- 
der that,  like  a  lonely  child,  I  stretch  out  my  arms  toward  it  ? 
Yet  my  stay  there  will  be  but  for  a  season.  I  go  to  complete  my 
studies,  to  make  myself  a  more  perfect  instrument  for  my  noble 
work,  and   then  I  shall  come  home — come,  not  to  New  York, 

but  to   my  own  dear  native  South,  to  W ,  that  I  may 

labor  under  the  shadow  of  its  lofty  pines,  and  within  hearing  of 
its  murmuring  river — dearer  to  me  than  classic  Arno,  or  im- 
mortal Tiber.  I  wrote  you  that  Mr.  Clifton  had  left  me  a  le- 
gacy, which,  judiciously  invested,  will  defray  my  expenses  in 
Europe,  where  living  is  cheaper  than  in  this  country.  •  Mr. 
Young  has  taken  charge  of  the  money  for  me,  and  has  kindly 
offered  to  attend  to  my.  remittances.  Aunt  Ruth's  friends,  the 
Ilichardsons,  consented  to  wait  for  me  until  after  the  opening  of 
the  Exhibition  of  the  Academy  of  Design,  and  one  week  from 
to-morrow  we  expect  to  sail " 

"  What  do  you  know  of. the  family  ?" 

"  Nothing,  except  that  the  lady,  who  is  an  old  friend  of  my 
aunt,  is  threatened  with  consumption,  and  has  been  advised  to 
spend  a  year  or  two  in  Florence.     Aunt  Ruth  took  me  to  see 


240  MACARIA  ;   OR, 

her  the  other  day  ;  she  seems  intelligent  and  agreeable,  and,  I 
dare  saj^,  I  shall  find  her  kind  and  pleasant  enough." 

"  Since  such  is  the  programme  you  have  marked  out,  I  trust 
that  no  disappointments  await  you,  and  that  all  your  bright 
dreams  may  be  realized.  But  if  it  should  prove  otherwise,  and 
you  grow  weary  of  your  art,  sick  of  isolation,  and  satiated  with 
Italy,  remember  that  I  shall  welcome  you  home,  and  gladly 
share  with  you  all  that  I  possess.  You  are  embarking  in  an  ex- 
periment which  thousands  have  tried  before  you,  and  wrecked 
happiness  upon  ;  but  I  have  no  right  to  control  your  future,  and 
certainly  no  desire  to  discourage  you.  At  all  events,  I  hope 
our  separation  will  be  brief." 

A  short  silence  followed,  broken  at  last  by  Electra,  who 
watched  him  keenly  as  she  spoke  : 

'*  Tell  me  something  about  Irene.  Of  course,  in  a  small  town 
like  W ,  you  must  see  her  frequently." 

"  By  no  means.  I  think  I  have  seen  her  but  three  times  since 
her  childhood — once  riding  with  her  father,  then  accidentally  at 
church,  and  again  a  few  evenings  before  I  left  at  the  graveyard, 
where  she  -was  dressing  a  tombstone  with  flowers.  There  we  ex- 
changed a  few  words  for  the  first  time,  and  this  reminds  me  that 
I  am  bearer  of  a  message  yet  undelivered.  She  inquired  after 
you  and  desired  me  to  tender  you  her  love  and  best  wishes." 

He  neither  started  nor  changed  color  at  the  mention  of  Irene's 
name,  but  straightened  himself,  and  buttoned  to  the  throat  the 
black  coat,  which,  from  the  warmth  of  the  room,  he  had  par- 
tially loosened. 

**  Is  she  not  a  great  belle  ?" 

"  I  presume  few  women  have  been  more  admired  than  she  is. 
I  hear  much  of  her  beauty,  and  the  seasation  which  it  creates 
wherever  she  goes  ;  but  the  number  of  her  suitors  is  probably 
limited,  from  the  fact  that  it  is  generally  known  she  is  engaged 
to  her  cousin,  young  Seymour." 

"  I  can  not  believe  that  she  loves  him." 

"  Oh  I  that  is  not  necessary  to  latter-day  matrimonial  con- 
tracts ;  it  is  an   obsolete  clause,  not  essential  to  legality,  and 


ALTARS   OF   5ACKIFICE.  241 

ntteiiy  ignored.  She  is  bound  hand  and  foot,  and  her  father 
will  immolate  her  on  the  altar  of  money." 

He  smiled  bitterly,  and  crossed  his  arms  over  his  chest. 

"  You  mistake  her  character,  Russell.  I  know  her  better, 
and  I  tell  you  there  is  none  of  the  Iphigenia  in  her  nature." 

"  At  least  I  do  not  mistake  her  father's,  and  I  pity  the  wo- 
man whose  fate  rests  in  his  iron  grasp." 

"  She  holds  hers  in  her  own  hands,  small  and  white  though 
they  are  ;  and,  so  surely  as  the  stars  shine  above  us,  she  will 
marry  only  where  she  loves.  She  has  all  the  will  which  has 
rendered  the  name  of  her  family  proverbial.  I  have  her  here  in 
crayons  ;  tell  mo  what  you  think  of  the  likeness." 

She  took  down  a  portfolio  and  selected  the  head  of  her  quan- 
dam  playmate,  holding  it  under  the  gas-light,  and  still  scrutiniz- 
ing her  cousin's  countenance.  He  took  it,  and  looked  gravely, 
earnestly,  at  the  lovely  features. 

"  It  scarcely  does  her  justice  ;  I  doubt  whether  any  portrait 
ever  wili.  Beside  the  expression  of  her  face  has  changed  mate- 
rially since  this  was  sketched.  There  is  a  harder  outline  now 
about  her  mouth,  less  of  dreaminess  in  the  eyes,  more  of  cold  hau- 
teur in  the  whole  face.  If  you  desire  it,  I  can  in  one  line  of 
Tenyson,  photograph  her  proud  beauty,  as  I  saw  her  mounted 
on  her  favorite  horse,  the  week  that  I  left  home  : 

"  '  Faultily  faultless,  icily  regular,  splendidly  null !'  " 

He  laid  the  drawing  back  in  the  open  portfolio,  crossed  the 
room,  and  took  up  his  hat. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Russell  ?  Can't  you  spend  the  even- 
ing with  me  at  aunt  Ruth's  ?" 

"  No,  thank  you  ;  I  must  go.  There  is  to  be  a  great  politi- 
cal meeting  at  Tammany  Ilall  to-night,  and  I  am  particularly 
anxious  to  attend." 

"  What  I  are  you,  too,  engaged  in  watching  the  fermentation 
of  the  political  vat  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  I  am  most  deeply  interested  ;  no  true  lover  of  his 
country  can  fail  to  be  so  at  this  juncture." 

11 


24-2  MACAKIA  ;   OE, 

"  How  long  will  you  be  in  Xew  York  ?" 

"  Since  I  can  not  persuade  you  to  return  with  me,  my  stay 
here  will  be  shortened.  One  of  our  courts  meets  soon,  and, 
though  Mr.  Campbell  will  be  there  to  attend  to  the  cases,  I  want, 
if  possible,  to  be  present.  I  shall  return  day  after  to-morrow. 
And  now  good-night  ;  I  will  see  you  early  in  the  morning." 

The  door  closed  behind  him,  and  she  remained  standing  for 
some  time  just  as  he  left  her.  Slowly  the  folded  hands  shrank 
from  each  other,  and  dropped  nerveless  to  her  side  ;  the  bright 
glow  in  her  cheeks,  the  dash  of  crimson  on  her  lips,  faded  from 
both  ;  the  whole  face  relaxed  into  an  expression  of  hopeless 
agony.  Lonely  as  Moses  when  he  calmly  climbed  Nebo  to  die, 
phe  bowed  herself  a  despairing  victim  upon  the  grim,  flint-front- 
ed altar  of  Necessity. 

Curiously  subtle  and  indomitable  is  woman's  hearty  so  often 
the  jest  of  the  flippant  and  unthinking — the  sneer  of  the  unscru- 
pulously calculating,  or  mercilessly  cynical.  It  had  long  been  no 
secret  to  this  woman  that  she  occupied  the  third  place  in  her 
cousin's  aff'ections — was  but  a  dweller  of  the  vestibule.  Her 
pride  had  been  tortured,  her  vauity  sorely  wounded  ;  yet,  to- 
night, purified  from  all  dross,  love  rose  invincible,  triumphant, 
{torn  the  crucible  of  long  and  severe  trial — sublime  in  its  isolor 
tion,  asking,  expecting  no  return — 

"  Self-girded  with  torn  strips  of  hope." 

Such  is  the  love  of  a  true  woman.  God  help  all  such,  in  this 
degenerate  world  of  ours,  so  cursed  with  shams  and  counterfeits. 

Raising  her  tearless,  shadowy  eyes  to  the  woeful  face  of  her 
Cassandra,  Electra  extended  her  arms  and  murmured  : 

"  Alone  henceforth  !  a  pilgrim  in  foreign  lands  !  a  solitary 
worker  among  strangers.  So  be  it !  I  am  strong  enough  to 
worfi  alone.     So  be  it  !" 

The  flaming  sword  of  the  Angel  of  Destiny  waved  her  from 
the  Eden  of  her  girlish  day-dreams,  and  by  its  fiery  gleam  •  she 
read  the  dim,  dun  future  ;  saw  all — 

"  The  long  mechanic  pacings  to  and  fro, 
The  set  gray  life,  and  apathetic  end." 


ALTAES   OF   SACRIFICE.  2i3 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

"  Don't  you  know  that  even  granite  mill-stones  finally  grind 
themselves  into  impalpable  powder  ?  You  give  yourself  no  rest, 
Aubrey,  and  human  machinery  wears  rapidly." 

"  But  if  the  powder  ground  be  golden  ?" 

"The  dust  is  but  dust  still,  despite  its  glitter,  and  fills  men's 
eyes  and  dims  their  vision  like  any  other  dust  ;  ending  often  in 
a  moral  ophtalmia  past  cure. 

"  The  plague  of  gold  strikes  far  and  near 
And  deep  and  strong  it  enters. 
This  purple  chimar  which  we  wear, 

Makes  madder  than  the  centaur's  ; 
Our  thoughts  grow  blank,  our  words  grow  strange, 

We  cheer  the  pale  gold-diggers  ; 
Each  soul  is  worth  so  much  on  'Change, 
And  marked,  like  sheep,  with  tigures. 

Be  pitiful,  0  God!" 

"  I  should  really  dislike  to  think  that  you  had  become  a  con- 
firmed, inveterate  chrysologist.  Take  time,  Aubrey  I  take  time  ; 
you  are  over-worked,  and  make  months  press  upon  your  brow 
more  heavily  than  years  on  most  men's.  After  all,  my  dear  fel- 
low, as  Emerson  says,  '  Politics  is  a  deleterious  profession,  like 
some  poisonous  handicrafts.'  I  sometimes  feel  like  drawing  a 
long  breath  for  you  ;  it  wearies  me  to  look  at  you — you  are  such 
a  concentrated  extract  of  work  !  work  !  Simply  for  this  reason, 
I  sent  for  you  to  come  and  take  a  cup  of  tea  with  me." 

'*  I  have  been  too  ni'ich  engaged  of  late  to  spare  an  evening 
to  merely  social  claims.  A  man  whose  life  rests  at  his  feet,  to 
be  lifted  to  some  fitting  pedestal,  has  little  leisure  for  the  luxury 
of  friendly  visiting." 

The  two  were  in  Eric  Mitchell's  pleasant  library.  Russell  sat 
in  an  arm-chair,  and  the  master  of  the  house  reclined  on  a  lounge 
drawn  near  the  hearth.  The  mellow  glow  of  the  lamp,  the  flash 
and  crackle  of  the  fire,  the  careless,  lazy  posture  of  the  invalid. 


244  MACARIA  ;   OB, 

all  betokened  quiet  comfort,  save  the  dark  fixed  face,  and  erect, 
restless  figure  of  the  guest. 

"  But,  Aubrey,  a.  man  who  has  already  achieved  so  much 
should  be  content  to  rest  a  while,  and  move  more  slowly." 

"  That  de^DCuds  altogether  on  the  nature  and  distance  of  his 
goal." 

"  And  that  goal  is— what  ?" 

"  Men  call  it  by  a  variety  of  names,  hoping  to  escape  Lucifer's 
fate  by  adroitly  cloaking  Lucifer's  infirmity." 

"  Yes  ;  and  whenever  I  look  at  you  toiling  so  ceaselessly, 
climbing  so  surely  to  eminence,  I  am  forcibly  reminded  of  Ma- 
caulay's  tine  passage  on  the  hollowness  of  political  life  :  '  A  pur- 
suit from  which,  at  most,  they  can  only  expect,  by  relinquishing 
liberal  studies  and  social  pleasures,  by  passing  nights  without 
sleep  and  summers  without  one  glimpse  of  the  beauty  of  nature, 
they  may  attain  that  laborious,  that  invidious,  that  closely- watch- 
ed slavery  which  is  mocked  with  the  name  of  power.'  You  have 
not  asked  my  opinion  of  your  speech." 

"  I  was  not  aware  that  you  heard  it." 

"Of  course  not,  but  I  read  it ;  and,  let  me  tell  you,  it  was  a 
great  speech,  a  masterly  argument,  that  will  make  a  lasting  im- 
pression upon  the  people.  It  has  greatly  changed  the  vote  of 
this  county  already." 

"  You  mistake  appearances  ;  the  seed  fell  in  good  soil,  but 
party  spirit  came,  as  fowls  of  the  air,  and  devoured  them." 

"  At  any  rate,  it  produced  a  profound  impression  on  public 
opinion,  and  startled  some  of  our  political  patriarchs." 

"  No,  a  mere  transitory  effect ;  they  have  folded  their  arms 
and  gone  to  sleep  again.  I  am,  of  course,  gratified  by  your  fa- 
vorable appreciation  of  my  effort,  but  I  differ  with  you  as  to  its 
result.  The  plough-share  of  naked  truth  must  thoroughly  sub- 
soil the  mind  of  the  Southern  states  before  the  future  of  the 
country  is  realized  in  any  degree  ;  as  yet,  the  surface  has  been 
but  slightly  grazed.  The  hydra-headed  foe  of  democracy  is  slow- 
ly but  certainly  coiling  around  our  American  eagle,  and  will 
crush  it,  if  not  seared  promptly.  But,  Mr.  Mitchell,  the  '  flam- 
mg  brands '  are  not  ready." 


ALTAKS    OF   SACRIFICE.  245 

"  To  wliat.  liydra  do  you  allude  ?" 

"  Deniagogism,  of  course.  Cleou  was  the  prototype  of  a  nu- 
merous class  ;  the  school  is  flourishing  vigorously  at  the  ^N'orth, 
and  no  longer  a  stranger  here.  The  people  must  root  it  out 
speedily,  or  the  days-  of  our  national  existence  are  numbered." 

"  History  proves  it  an  invariable  concomitant  of  democracy  ; 
rather  a  rank  off-shoot  from  than  antagonistic  to  it." 

"  You  confound  the  use  and  abuse  of  a  system.  Civilization 
is,  indisputably,  a  blessing  to  our  race,  yet  an  abuse  of  the  very 
improvements  and  discoveries  that  constitute  its  glory,  entails  in- 
calculable sorrow,  and  swells  criminal  statistics.  The  march  of 
medical  science  has  induced  the  administering  of  deadly  poisons 
with  the  happiest  results,  when  skilfully  directed  ;  yet  it  some- 
times happens  that  fatal  effects  follow  an  over-dose.  Powerful 
political  levers  should  be  handled  judiciously — not  thrown  into 
clutches  of^ignorant  empirics." 

"  Universal  suffrage  is  not  your  hobby,  then  ?" 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  hold,  with  one  of  the  most  brilliant 
statesmen  this  country  ever  produced,  that  '  it  is  the  Greek  horse 
introduced  into  the  citidel  of  American  liberties  and  sove- 
reignty.' " 

"  On  my  honor,  I  am  astonished  at  hearing  you  quote  and  en- 
dorse a  diclum  of  Hamilton.  The  millennium  can't  be  far  off, 
when  Democrats  seek  illustration  from  Federalism  I" 

"  Bigotry  in  politics  is  as  indefensible  as  in  religion  or  science. 
Truth  is  a  sworn  foe  to  monopolists  ;  is  the  exclusive  right  of  no 
one  organization  or  party  that  ever  waxed  and  waned.  I  am  a 
democrat  ;  I  believe  in  liberal,  enlarged,  but  not  universal  suf- 
frage ;  it  is  a  precious  boon,  and  should  be  hedged  about  with 
cautious  restrictions.  The  creation  of  the  ephori  was  a  sort  of 
compromise  measure,  a  concession  to  appease  the  people  of  Spar- 
ta, and,  as  an  extension  of  the  elective  franchise,  was  most  de- 
plorable in  its  results.  Universal  suffrage  always  recall  to  my 
mind  the  pithy  criticism  of  Anacharsis,  the  Scythian  pliilosopher, 
on  the  Solonian  code,  which  lodged  too  much  power  in  the  hands 
of  the  people  :  *  Wise  men  debate,  but  fools  decide.'  Mr.  Mitch- 
ell, it  matters  little  whether  we  have  one  or  one  hundred  million 


246  MACARIA  ;  OR, 

tyrants,  if  our  rights  are  trampled  ;  it  is  a  mere  question  of  taste 
whether  you  call  the  despot  Czar,  Dictator,  or  Ballot-box.  The 
masses  are  electrical,  and  valuable  principles  of  government 
should  be  l^ept  beyond  the  reach  of  explosion." 

"And,  except  in  a  powerful  centralization,  where  could  you 
place  them  for  safety  ?" 

"  They  are  already  deposited  in  the  constitution.  I  would,  in 
order  to  secure  them,  extend  our  naturalization  laws  so  as  to  re- 
strict the  foreign  vote,  limit  the  right  of  suffrage  by  affixing  a 
property  quaUfication,  make  the  tenure  of  our  judiciary  offices 
for  life  or  good  behavior,  and  lengthen  the  terra  of  administra- 
tion of  our  chief  magistrate,  thereby  diminishing  the  frequency 
of  popular  elections,  which,  in  offering  premiums  for  demagog- 
ism,  has  been  a  prolific  cause  of  mischief.  In  examining  the  sta- 
tistics of  the  "N'orthern  and  Western  states  recently,  and  noting 
the  dangerous  results  of  the  crude  foreign  vote,  I  was  forcibly 
reminded  of  a  passage  in  Burke's  '  Reflections  on  the  French 
Kevolutioa '  :  '  Those  who  attempt  to  level,  never  equalize.  In 
all  societies,  consisting  of  various  descriptions  of  citizens,  some 
description  must  be  uppermost.  The  levellers,  therefore,  only 
change  and  pervert  the  natm*al  order  of  things  ;  they  load  the 
edifice  of  society  by  setting  up  in  the  air  what  the  solidity  of  the 
structure  requires  to  be  on  the  ground.'  The  day  is  not  far  dis- 
tant, I  fear,  when  European  paupers,  utterly  ignorant  of  our  in- 
stitutions, will  determine  who  shall  sit  in  the  presidential  chair  , 
and  how  far  the  co6stitiition  shall  be  observed.  These  are  grave 
truths,  which  the  enlightened  body  of  the  American  people 
should  ponder  well  ;  but,  instead,  they  are  made  mere  catch- 
words for  party  purposes,  and  serve  only  to  induce  a  new  scram- 
ble for  office.  It  requires  no  extraordinary  prescience  to  pre- 
dict that  the  great  fundamental  principles  of  this  government 
will  soon  become  a  simple  question  of  arithmetic — will  lie  at  the 
mercy  of  an  unscrupulous  majority.  The  surging  waves  of  North- 
ern faction  and  fanaticism  already  break  ominously  against 
our  time-honored  constitutional  dykes,  and  if  the  South  would 
strengthen  her  bulwarks  there  is  no  time  to  be  slept  or  wrangled 
away." 


ALTAR9    OF   SACRIFICE.  24:7 

As  he  spoko,  Russell's  eye  fell  upon  a  large  oval  vase  on  the 
maiitle-pieeo  filled  willi  rare  exotics,  whose  graceful  tendrils  were 
tastefully  disposed  into  a  perfumed  fringe.  Rising,  he  looked 
carefully  at  the  brilliant  hues,  and  said,  as  he  bent  to  inhale  their 
fragrance  : 

"  Where  do  you  grow  such  flowers  at  this  season  ?" 

"  Irene  brings  them  almost  everyday  from  the  green-house  cfa 
the  hill.  She  takes  a  peculiar  pleasure  in  arranging  them  in 
my  vases.  I  think  she  stood  a  half-hour  yesterday  twining  and 
bending  those  stems  the  way  she  wanted  them  to  hang.  They 
are  so  brittle  that  I  snap  the  blossoms  off,  but  in  her  hands  they 
seem  pliable  enough." 

Russell  withdrew  the  fingers  which  had  wandered  caressingly 
amid  the  delicate  leaves,  and,  reseating  himself,  took  a  book  from 
bis  pocket. 

**  Mr.  MitcJicll,  I  dare  say  you  recollect  a  discussion  which  we 
had,  some  months  ago,  regarding  the  Homeric  unity  question  ? 
Since  that  time  I  have  been  looking  into  Payn«  Knight's  views 
on  the  subject,  and  am  more  than  ever  convinced  that  the  Ger- 
man theory  is  incorrect.  I  will  read  a  portion  of  his  argument, 
and  leave  the  book  for  you  to  examine  at  your  leisure." 

"  By  all  means  !  But  I  thought  your  red-tape  gyves  kept  you 
from  archaiologic  researches  ?'' 

"It  is  true  they  do  bind  me  tighter  than  I  sometimes  relish  ; 
but  we  are  all  in  bondage,  more  or  less,  and,  since  one  must  sub- 
mit to  tyranny,  I  prefer  a  stern  master."  He  drew  his  chair 
nearer  the  lamp,  and  began  to  read  aloud.  Nearly  a  half-hour 
passed  thus,  when  the  lil)rary  door  was  opened  hastily,  and  Irene 
came  in,  dressed  magnificently  in  party  costume.  She  stood  a 
moment,  irresolute  and  surprised,  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  Russell's, 
then  both  bowed  silently,  and  she  came  to  the  fire. 

"  How  are  you,  uncle  Eric?  You  look  flushed,  feverish." 
She  laid  her  cold  pearly  hand  on  his  forehead,  and  stood  at  his 
side. 

"  Tolerably  comfortable,  thanks  to  Mr.  Aubrey,  who  has  made 
me  almost  forget  my  headache.  You  will  be  fashionably  late  at 
the  jiarty  to-night." 


24:8  MACARIA  ;    OR, 

"  Yes  !  as  usual ;  but  for  a  better  reason  than  because  I  wish 
to  be  fashionable,  I  wanted  to  know  how  you  were,  and,  as  father 
was  not  quite  ready,  I  came  in  advance,  and  sent  the  carriage 
back  for  him  and  Hugh.  I  was  not  aware  that  you  were  in  Mr. 
Aubrey's  hands  for  the  evening.  You  were  reading,  I  believe  ; 
pardon  my  intrusion,  and  do  not  let  me  interrupt  you."  * 

"  Sit  down,  Irene  ;  here,  child,  where  I  can  look  at  you.  We 
tan  both  bear  such  an  interruption." 

Russell  closed  the  volume,  but  kept  his  finger  in  the  leaves, 
and  his  fascinated  eyes  went  back  to  the  face  and  form  of  the 
heiress.  The  dress  was  of  heavy  blue  silk,  with  an  over-skirt 
and  bertha  of  rich  white  lace,  looped  with  bunches  of  violets  and 
geranium  leaves.  The  rippling  hair  was  drawn  smoothly  over 
the  pure  brow,  and  coiled  at  the  bdck  of  the  head  under  a  blue 
and  silver  netting,  from  which  fuchsias  of  turquoise  and  pearl 
hung  low  on  the  polished  neck.  The  arms  and  ?lioulders  gleam- 
ed Hke  ivory  as  the  lamp-light  glowed  over  her  ;  and,  save  the 
firm,  delicate  crimson  lips,  there  was  no  stain  of  color  in  the  cold 
but  superbly  beautiful  face.  It  was  the  first  time  they  had  met 
since  that  evening  at  the  cemetery,  many  months  before.  Lift- 
ing her  splendid  violet  eyes,  she  met  his  gaze  an  instant,  and, 
tapping  the  book,  Russell  asked,  with  quiet  nonchalance  : 

"  Where  do  you  stand.  Miss  Huntingdon,  in  this  vexed 
Wolfian  controversy  concerning  the  authorship  of  the  Iliad  and 
Odyssey  V 

"  I  would  render  unto  Ccesar  the  things  that  are  Caesar's." 

"  Equivocal,  of  course  ! — a  woman's  answer,"  laughed  her  un- 
cle. 

"  Explicitly,  then,  I  believe  that,  as  Scott  absorbed  the  crude 
minstrelsy  of  Scotland,  and  reproduced  national  songs  and  le- 
gends under  a  fairer,  sweeter  form,  so  Homer,  grand  old  bUnd 
eclectic,  gathered  the  fragmentary  myths  of  heroic  ages,  and, 
clothing  them  with  the  melody  of  wandering  Greek  rhapsodists, 
gave  to  the  world  his  wonderful  epic — the  first  and  last  speci- 
men of  composite  poetic  architecture." 

"  You  ascribe  the  Odyssey,  then,  to  a  different  author  and  a 
later  period  ?"  asked  !Mr.  Mitchell. 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  249 

"  I  am  too  littre  versed  in  philology  to  determine  so  grave  a 
question.  My  acquaintance  with  Greek  is  limited,  and  I  am  not 
competent  to  the  task  of  considering  all  the  evidence  in  favor  of 
the  identity  of  authorship." 

She  put  an  her  white  cashmere  cIoaL  and  stood  still  a  moment, 
li.steni  ng. 

"  Good-night,  uncle  Eric  ;  the  carriage  is  coming.  I  believe 
I  '"^hould  know  the  tramp  of  those  horses 'amid  a  regiment  of  cav- 
alry." 

*'  Why  need  you  hurry  off  ?     Let  your  father  come  in." 

"  I  will  spare  him  that  trouble.     Good-night,  Mr.  Aubrey." 

She  turned  to  leave  the  room,  but,  in  gathering  her  cloak 
around  her,  dropped  her  fan.  Russell  stooped  to  pick  it  up,  and, 
as  he  restored  it,  their  hands  met.  His  brow  flushed,  but  not 
even  the  pale  pearly  glow  of  a  sea-shell  crept  to  her  cheek. 
Again  she  raised  her  eyes  to  his,  and  a  haughty,  dazzling  smile 
flashed  over  her  face  as  she  inclined  her  head. 

"  Thank  you,  sir."    . 

There  was  a  brief  silence,  broken  by  Eric,  when  the  sound  of 
the  carriage  had  died  away. 

"  Irene  is  the  only  perfectly  beautiful  woman  I  ever  saw  ;  and 
yet,  Aubrey,  it  makes  me  sad  to  watch  her  countenance." 

"  Whenever  I  see  her  I  can  not  avoid  recallins:  an  old  Scan- 
dinavian  myth,  she  realizes  so  fully  my  ideal  Iduna,  standing  at 
the  portals  of  Valhalla,  offering  apples  of  immortality." 

lie  returned  at  once  to  his  book  and  read  several  pages,  occa- 
sionally pausing  to  call  attention  to  some  special  passage  ;  final- 
ly he  rose,  and  took  his  hat. 

"  It  is  early  yet,  Aubrey  ;  don't  go." 

"  Thank  you  ;'  I  must  fulfill  another  engagement." 

"  A  word  before  you  leave  ;  will  you  be  a  candidate  for  the 
legislature  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  I  was  waited  upon  by  a  committee  to-day,  and  my 
name  will  be  announced  to-morrow.     Good-niffht." 

Slowly  he  walked  back  to  town,  and,  once  upon  the  main 
street,  took  a  new  pair  of  gloves  from  his  pocket,  fitted  them 
carefully,  and  directed  his  steps  to  the  elegant  residence,  wiiose 


250  MAC  ARIA  ;   OR, 

approach  was  well  nigh  blocked  up  with  carriages.  This  was 
the  second  time  that  he  had  been  invited  bj  the  Hendersons,  and 
he  had  almost  determined  to  decline  as  formerly,  but  something 
in  Irene's  chill  manner  changed  his  resolution.  He  knew,  from 
rarions  circumstances,  that  the  social  edict  against  him  was 
being  revoked  in  fashionable  circles  ;  that  because  he  had  risen 
without  its  permission,  aid,  or  countenance,  and  in  defiance  of  its 
sneers,  the  world  was  beginning  to  court  him.  A  gloomy  scowl 
sat  on  his  stern  lips  as  he  mounted  the  steps  of  the  mansion  from 
which  his  meek  and  sufiFering  mother  had  borne  bundles  of  plain 
work,  or  delicate  masses  of  embroidery,  for  the  mother  and 
daughter  who  passed  her  in  the  street  with  a  supercilious  stare. 
Beau-nwnde  suddenly  awoke  to  the  recollection  that,  "  after  all, 
Mrs.  Aubrey  belonged  to  one  of  the  wealthiest  and  first  families 
in  the  state."  At  first  Russell  had  proudly  repelled  all  over- 
tures, but  gradually  he  was  possessed  by  a  desire  to  rule  in  the 
very  circle  which  had  so  long  excluded  his  family.  Most  fully  he 
appreciated  his  position  and  the  motives  which  actuated  the  social 

autocrats  of  W ;  he  was  no  longer  the  poor  disgraced 

clerk,  but  the  talented  young  lawyer,  and  prospective  heir  of  Mr. 
Campbell's  wealth.  Bitterly,  bitterly  came  memories  of  early 
trial,  and  now  tlie  haughtiness  of  Irene's  manner  stung  him  as 
nothing  else  could  possibly  hava  done.  He  was  at  a  loss  to 
comprehend  this  change  in  one  who  had  dared  so  much  in  order 
to  assist  his  family,  and  proud  defiance  arose  in  his  heart.  It 
was  ten  o'clock,  the/e^e  was  at  its  height  ;  the  sound  of  music, 
the  shimmer  of  jewels,  and  rustle  of  costly  silks  mingled  with  the 
hum  of  conversation,  and  the  tread  of  dancing  feet  as  Russell 
deposited  hat  and  over-coat  in  the  dressing-room  and  entered  the 
blazing  parlors.  The  quadrille  had  just  ended,  and  gay  groups 
chattered  in  the  centre  of  the.room  ;  among  these,  Maria  Hen- 
derson, leaning  on  Hugh's  arm,  and  Grace  Harris,  who  had  been 
dancing  with  Louis  Henderson.  As  Russell  crossed  the  floor  to 
speak  to  the  host  and  hostess,  all  eyes  turned  upon  him,  and  a 
sudden  hush  fell  on  the  merry  dancers. 

"  Coaxed  at  last  within  the  pale  of  civilization  !  how  did  you 
contrive  it,  Louis  ?"  asked  Maria. 


ALTAK8    OF    SACKIFICE.  261 

"Oh  !  lie  declined  when  I  invited  hin  ;  but  I  believe  father 
saw  him  afterward  and  renewed  the  request.  Do  observe  him 
talkin.n;  to  mother  ;  he  is  as  polished  as  if  he  had  spent  his  life  at 

court." 

"  lie  is  a  man  whom  I  never  fancied  ;  but  that  two  hours 
speech  of  his  was  certainly  the  finest  effort  I  ever  listened  to. 
Cffisars  ambition  was  moderate  in  comparison  w.itli  Aubrey's  ; 
and,  somehow,  even  against  my  will,  I  can't  help  admiring  him, 
he  is  so  coolly  independent,"  said  Hugh,  eyeing  him  curiously. 

"  I  heard  father  say  that  the  Democrats  hi  tend  to  send  hhn 
to  the  legislature  next  terra,  and  the  opposition  are  bothered  to 
match  him  fully.  By  the  way,  they  speak  of  Mr.  Huntingdon 
for  their  candidate.  But  here  comes  your  hero,  Miss  Maria." 
As  he  spoke,  Charlie  Harris  drew  back  a  few  steps,  and  suffered 
Russell  to  speak  to  the  young  lady  of  the 'house.  Irene  stood 
not  far  off,  talking  to  the  Governor  of  the  state,  who  chanced 

to  be  on  a  brief  visit  to  W ,  and  quite  near  her  Judge 

Harris  and  her  father  were  in  earnest  conversation.  Astonished 
at  the  sudden  apparition,  her  eyes  followed  him  as  he  bowed  to 
the  members  of  the  central  group  ;  and  as  she  heard  the  deep, 
rich  voice  above  the  buzz  of  small  talk,  she  waited  to  see  if  he 

would  notice  her.     Soon  Governor  G gave  her  his  arm  for 

a  promenade,  and  she  found  herself,  ere  long,  very  near  Maria, 
who  was  approaching  with  Russell.  He  was  saying  something, 
at  which  she  laughed  delightedly  ;  just  then  his  eye  fell  on  Irene; 
there  was  no  token  of  recognition  on  the  part  of  either  ;  but  the 
Governor,  in  passing,  put  out  his  hand  to  shake  Russell's,  and 
asked  for  Mr.  Campbell.  Again  and  again  they  met  during  the 
ensuing  hour,  but  no  greeting  was  exchanged  ;  then  he  disap- 
peared. As  Irene  leaned  against  the  window-frame  in  the 
crowded  supper-room  she  heard  Charlie  Harris  gaily  bantering 
Maria  on  the  events  of  the  evening. 

"What  have  you  done  with  Aubrey  ?  I  will  challenge  him 
before  to-morrow  morning,  for  cutting  me  out  of  my  schottische 
with  his  prosy  chat." 

"  Oh  I  he  "left  a  half-hour  ago  ;  excused  himself  to  mother,  ou 
the  plea  of  starting  off  to  court  at  daybreak.  "  He  is  perfectlv 


^5li  MAC  ARIA  ;    OR, 

fascinating  ;  don't  you  think  so,  Grace  ?  Sucli  eyes  and  lips  I 
and  such  a  forehead  !" 

"  Don't  appeal  to  me  for  corroboration,  I  beg  of  you,  Maria, 
for  you  really  gave  nobody  else  an  opportunity  of  judging.  Take 
a  friendly  hint,  and  do  not  betray  your  admiration  so  publicly," 
answered  the  friend,  pouting  her  pretty  childish  lip. 

"  I  see  clearly  that  the  remainder  of  us  may  as  well  go  hang 
ourselves  at  once  for  any  future  favor  we  can  expect,  since  My 
Lord  Aubrey  condescends  to  enter  the  lists.  Miss  Irene,  I  have 
not  heard  you  rhapsodizing  yet  about  the  new  sensation." 

"  I  rarely  rhapsodize  about  anything,  sir." 

•*  To  whom  does  he  allude,"  asked  Governor  G ,  good- 

humoredly." 

"  To  Mr.  Aubrey,  who  is  no  stranger  to  you,  I  believe." 

"  Ah  !  Campbell's  partner.  I  liave  had  some  correspondence 
with  him  recently,  and  when  I  met  him  at  his  office  yesterday  I 
was  no  longer  surprised  at  the  tone  of  his  letters.  His  intellect 
is  one  of  the  keenest  in  the  state  ;  his  logical  and  analytical 
powers  are  of  the  rarest  order.  I  shall  watch  his  career  with 
great  interest.     Campbell  may  justly  be'  proud  of  him." 

If  she  had  felt  any  inclination  to  reply,  the  expression  of  her 
father's  face  discouraged  her.  He  had  joined  them  in  time  to 
hear  the  Governor's  eulogium,  and  she  saw  a  sneer  distort  his 
features  as  he  listened.  Daring  the  drive  homeward,  Mr.  Hun- 
tingdon suddenly  interrupted  a  strain  of  Hugh's  nonsense  by 
exclaiming  : 

"  People  have  certainly  lost  common-sense  !  Their  memory 
is  not  as  long  as  my  little  finger." 

"  What  is  the  matter,  sir  ?  With  what  recent  proof  of  im- 
becility have  they  favored  you  ?" 

"  The  idea  of  that  upstart  wheedling  this  community  is  utterly 
preposterous.  His  impudence  is  absolutely  astounding.  I  am 
Mstonished  that  Henderson  should  give  him  countenance  !" 

"  The  world  has  a  strange  criteria  to  determine  its  verdicts. 
His  father  was  sentenced  to  be  hnng  for  committing  murder  ; 
and  my  uncle,  Clement  Huntingdon,  who  deliberately  shot  a 
man  dead  in  a  duel,  was  received  in  social  circles  as  cordially  as 


ALTAitS    OF   SACRIFICE.  253 

if  his  hands  wore  not  blood-stained.  There  was  more  of  pallia- 
tion in  tlie  first  case  (one  of  man-slaugliter),  for  it  was  the  hasty, 
accidental  work  of  a  moment  of  passion  ;  in  the  last  a  cool,  pre- 
meditated taking  of  human  life.  But  the  sensitive,  fastidious 
world  caJled  one  brutal  and  disgraceful  and  the  other  '  honorable 
satisfaction,'  in  which  gentlemen  could  indulge  with  impunity 
*  by  crossing  state  lines.     O  temporal   O  mores  T 

As  Irene  uttered  these  words,  she  involuntarily  crushed  her 
bouquet  and  threw  it  from  her,  while  Hugh  expected  an  explo- 
sion of  wrath  on  the  part  of  his  uncle.  He  merely  muttered  an 
oath,  however,  and  smoked  his  cigar  in  sullen  silence,  leaving 
the  cousins  to  discuss  the  events  of  the  party  during  the  remain- 
der of  the  ride. 

Once  more  in  his  own  room,  at  the  quiet  boarding-house, 
Russell  lighted  the  gas-burner  over  a  small  desk,  and  sat  down 
to  a  mass  of  papers.  The  apartment  was  cold;  the  fire  had 
long  since  died  out  ;  the  hearth  looked  ashy  and  desolate. 
There  was  nothing  home-like  or  cosy  in  the  aspect  of  the  room  ; 
the  man  lived  at  his  office,  and  this  was  but  a  place  to  pass  the 
brief  unconscious  hours  of  sleep.  He  had  no  home-life,  no  social 
existence  ;  was  fast  becoming  callous,  impervious  to  the  gentler 
emotions  and  kindly  sympathies  which  domestic  ties  foster  and 
develop.  Xo  womanly  touch  left  pleasant  traces  here,  as  iu 
Eric's  home  ;  no  graceful,  luxurious  trifles  met  the  eye  ;  all 
things  were  cold,  and  prim,  and  formal.  He  had  no  kindred  and 
few  friends,  but  unbounded  aspiration  stood  in  lieu  of  both. 
Fortunately  for  him,  his  great  physical  strength  enabled  him  to 
pursue  a  course  of  study  which  men  of  feebler  constitution  could 
never  have  endured.  On  the  desk  lay  several  volumes,  carefully 
annotated  for  future  reference — Ricardo,  Malthus,  Say,  and 
Smith.  To  these  he  turned,  and  busied  himself  iu  transferring 
such  excerpts  as  suited  his  purpose  to  an  unfinished  MS  design- 
ed for  future  legislative  service.  The  brilliant  smile  which  • 
lighted  his  face  an  hour  before,  imparting  an  irresistible  cliarm, 
had  wholly  faded,  leaving  the  features  to  tfieir  wonted  grave  inamo- 
bility — the  accustomed  non-committalism  of  the  business  man  of 
the  world.     The  measured  tones  of  the  watchman  on  the  to^n- 


254  MAC  ARIA  ;    OR, 

tower  recalled  him,  finally,  from  the  cold  realm  of  political 
economy  ;  he  closed  the  books,  took  off  his  watch  and  wound  it 
up.  It  wanted  but  three  hours  to  dawn  ;  but  he  heeded  it  not  ; 
the  sight  of  the  massive  old  watch  brought  vividly  back  the 
boyish  days  of  sorrow,  and  he  sat  thinking  of  that  morning  of 
shame,  when  Irene  came  close  to  him,  nestling  her  soft  little 
hand  in  his,  and  from  some  long-silent,  dark,  chill  chamber  of 
memory  leaped  sweet,  silvery,  childish  echoes  : 

"  Oh,  Russell  I  if  I  could  only  help  you  I" 

With  an  involuntary  sigh  he  arose,  and  walking  to  the  chimney, 
leaned  his  elbow  on  the  mantle.  But  it  would  not  answer  ;  the 
faint,  delicious  perfume  of  violets  seemed  to  steal  up  from  the 
gray  ashes  on  the  hearth,  and  the  passionless,  peerless  face  of  a 
queenly  woman  followed  him  from  the  haunts  of  fiishion.  The 
golden-haired  dream  of  his  early  youth  had  lost  none  of  her  former 
witchery  ;  f-he  only  shared  the  mastery  of  his  heart  with  stern, 
unrelaxing  ambition,  and  the  gulf  which  divided  them  only  en- 
hanced the  depth,  the  holiness  of  his  love  for  her.  Since  his 
return  from  Europe  he  had  accustomed  himself  to  think  of  her 
as  Hugh's  wife  ;  but  he  found  it  daily  more  difficult  to  realize 
that  she  could  willingly  give  her  hand  to  her  heedless,  self-indul- 
gent cousin  ;  and  how  the  alteration  in  her  manner  toward  him 
perplexed  and  grieved  him.  Did  she  suspect  the  truth,  and  fear 
that  he  might  presume  on  her  charity,  in  by-gone  years  ?  To 
liis  proud  spirit  this  was  a  suggestion  singularly  insulting,  and 
lie  had  resolved  to  show  her  in  future  that  he  claimed  not  even  a 
nod  of  recognition.  Instead  of  avoiding  her  as  formerly  he 
would  seek  occasions  to  exhibit  an  indifference  which  he  little 
thought  that  her  womanly  heart  would  rightly  interpret.  lie 
had  found  it  more  difficult  than  he  supposed  to  keep  his  attention 
chained  to  Maria's  and  Grace's  gay  nonsense  ;  to  prevent  his 
eyes  from  wandering  to  the  face  whose  image  was  enshrined  in 
his  lonely  heart ;  and  now,  with  complex  feelings  of  tenderness 
and  angry  defiance,  he  sought  his  pillow  for  a  short  respite  be- 
fore the  journey  that  waited  but  for  daylight. 

For  ;i  few  weeks  all  W was  astir  with  interest  in  the 

impending   election  ;  newspaper   columns   teemed  with  caustic 


ALTAKli    OF    SACRIFICE.  255 

nrticles,  ami  ITuiitingdon  and  Aubrey  cliiUs  villifiod  each  other 
witli  the  usual  acrimony  of  such  occasions.  Mr.  Campbell's 
influence  was  extensive,  but  the  Huntingdon  supporters  were 
powerful,  and  the  result  seemed  doubtful  until  the  week  previ- 
ous to  the  election,  wlien  llussell,  who  had  as  yet  taken  no 
active  part,  accepted  the  challenge  of  his  opponent  to  a  public 
discussion.  Themeethig  was  held  in  front  of  the  court-house, 
the  massive  stone  steps  serving  as  a  temporary  rostrum.  The 
night  was  dark  and  cloudy,  but  huge  bonfires,  blazing  barrels 
of  pitch,  threw  a  lurid  glare  over  the  broad  street,  now  converted 
into  a  surging  sea  of  human  heads. 

Surrounded  by  a  committee  of  select  friends,  Mr.  Huntingdon 
sat,  confident  of  success  ;  and  w^hen  the  hiss  of  rockets  ceased,  he 
came  forward  and  addressed  the  assembly  in  an  hour's  speech. 
As  a  warm  and  rather  prominent  politician,  he  was  habituated 
to  the  task,  and  bursts  of  applause  from  liis  own  party  frequently 
attested  the  effect  of  his  easy,  graceful  style,  and  pungent  irony. 
Blinded  by  personal  hate,  and  hurried  on  by  the  excitement  of 
the  hour,  he  neglected  the  cautious  policy  which  had  hitherto 
been  observed,  and  finally  launched  into  a  fierce  philippic  against 
his  antagonist — holding  up  for  derision  the  melancholy  fate  of 
his  father,  and  sneeringly  denouncing  the  '*  audacious  pretensions 
of  a  political  neophyte." 

Groans  and  hisses  greeted  this  unexpected  peroration,  and 
many  of  his  own  friends  bit  their  lips,  and  bent  their  brows  iu 
angry  surprise,  as  he  took  his  seat  amid  an  uproar  which  would 
have  been  respectable  even  in  the  days  of  the  builders  of  Ba- 
Ijel.  llussell  was  sitting  on  the  upper  step,  with  his  head  lean- 
ing on  his  hand,  and  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  mass  of  up-turned, 
eager  faces,  listening  patiently  to  the  lengthy  address,  expecting 
just  what  he  was  destined  to  hear.  At  the  mention  of  his  family 
misfortunes  he  lifted  his  head,  rose,  and  advancing  a  few  steps, 
took  off  his  hat,  and  stood  confronting  the  speaker  in  full  view  of 
the  excited  crowd.  And  there  the  red  light,  flaring  over  his 
features,  showed  a  calm,  stern,  self-reliant  man,  who  felt  that  he 
had  nothing  to  blush  for  in  the  past  or  to  dread  in  future. 
When  the  tirade  ended,  when  the  tumult  ceased  and  silence  fell 


256  macaria:  or, 

upon  the  andience,  he  turned  and  fixed  his  deep,  glowing  eyes  full 
on  the  face  of  his  opponent  for  one  moment,  smiling  haughtily  ; 
then,  as  Mr.  Huntingdon  quailed  before  his  witliering  gaze,  he 
crossed  his  arms  over  his  chest,  and  addressed  the  meeting. 

He  came,  he  said,  to  discuss  questions  of  grave  import  to  the 
state,  not  the  pedigree  or  antecedents  of  his  antagonist,  with 
which,  he  supposed,  the  public  had  no  concern.  He  could  not 
condescend  to  the  level  of  the  gentleman  ;  was  not  a  proficient, 
not  his  equal  in  slang  phrases,  or  gross,  vulgar  vituperation,  and 
scorned  to  farther  insult  tlie  good  taste  of  his  hearers  by  ac- 
quainting them  with  the  contemptible  motives  of  tlie  individual 
hatred  which  had  induced  his  opponet  to  forget  what  the  rules 
of  good  breeding  and  etiquette  imperatively  demanded.  He 
would  not  continue  to  disgrace  the  occasion  by  any  refutation 
of  the  exceedingly  irrelevant  portion  of  the  preceding  harangue, 
which  related  to  purely  personal  matters,  and  was  unworthy  of 
notice,  but  asked  the  attention  of  his  hearers  for  a  few  moments, 
while  he  analyzed  the  platform  of  his  party.  Briefly  he  stated 
the  issues  dividing  the  people  of  the  state  ;  warned  the  opposi- 
tion of  the  probable  results  of  their  policy,  if  triurapliant  ;  and, 
with  resistless  eloquence,  pleaded  for  a  firm  maintenance  of  the 
principles  of  his  own  party.  He  was,  he  averred,  no  alarmist, 
but  he  proclaimed  that  the  people  slept  upon  the  thin  heaving  crust 
of  a  volcano,  wliich  would  inevitably  soon  burst  forth  ;  and  the 
period  was  rapidly  approaching  when  the  Southern  states,  unless 
united  and  on  the  alert,  would  lie  bound  at  the  feet  of  an  inso- 
lent and  rapacious  Northern  faction.  He  demanded  that, 
through  the  legislatures,  the  states  should  appeal  to  Congress 
for  certain  restrictions  and  guarantees,  which,  if  denied,  would 
justify  extreme  measures  on  the  part  of  the  people.  The  man's 
marvellous  magnetism  was  never  more  triumphantly  attested  ; 
the  mass,  who  had  listened  in  profound  silence  to  every  syllable 
which  had  passed  his  lips,  now  vented  their  enthusiasm  in  pro- 
longed and  vociferous  applause,  and  vehement  cries  of  "  Go  on  I 
go  on  !"  The  entire  absence  of  stereotyped  rnodomontade  ren- 
dered his  words  peculiarly  impressive,  as  he  gave  them  utter- 
ance with  no  visible  token  of  enthusiasm.      He  did  not  lash  the 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  257 

passions  of  the  populace  into  a  passing  phrensy,  but  effectually 
stirred  the  great  deep  of  sober  feeling  and  sound  sense.  With 
his  elegant,  graceful  delivery,  and  polished,  sparkling  diction,  he 
stood,  as  it  were,  on  some  lofty  cool  pedestal,  and  pointed  uner- 
ringly to  coming  events,  whose  shadows  had  not  yet  reached  them, 
of  which  they  had  not  dreamed  before,  and  it  was  not  wonderful 
that  the  handsome  young  speaker  became  an  idol  to  be  worship- 
ed afar  off. 

As  he  descended  the  steps  and  disappeared  amid  the  shouts  of 
the  crowd,  Judge  Harris  turned  to  Mr.  Huntingdon  and  said, 
with  ill-concealed  annoyance  : 

"  You  have  lost  your  election  by  your  confounded  impru- 
dence." 

"  That  remains  to  be  seen,  sir,"  was  the  petulant  rejoinder. 

"It  is  a  foregone  conclusion,"  muttered  Dr.  Arnold,  button- 
ing his  over-coat,  and  looking  around  for  his  cane. 

"  I  have  sworn  a  solemn  oath  that  I  will  trample  the  upstart 
out  of  existence,  at  least  politically  !" 

"  As  well  try  to  trample  on  the  stars  yonder  I  Your  speech 
ruined  you,  I  am  afraid  !" 

The  judge  walked  oft',  pondering  a  heavy  bet  which  he  had  re- 
lative to  the  result. 

By  sunrise  on  the  day  of  the  election  the  roads  leading  to  town 
were  crowded  with  voters  making  their  way  to  the  polls.  The 
drinking-saloons  were  full  to  overflowing  ;  the  side-walks  throng- 
ed with  reeling  groups  as  the  day  advanced.  Because  the  Hunt- 
ingdon side  bribed  freely,  the  Aubrey  partisans  felt  that  they 
must,  from  necessity,  follow  the  disgraceful  precedent.  ?^ot  a 
lady  showed  her  face  upon  the  street  ;  drinking,  wrangling,  fight- 
ing was  the  order  of  the  day.  Windows  were  smashed,  buggies 
overturned,  and  the  police  exercised  to  the  utmost.  Accompa- 
nied by  a  few  friends,  Mr.  Huntingdon  rode  from  poll  to  poll, 
encouraging  his  supporters,  and  drawing  heavily  upon  his  purse, 
while  Russell  remained  quietly  in  his  office,  well  assured  of  the 
result.  At  five  o'clock,  when  the  town  polls  closed,  Russell's 
votes  showed  a  majority  of  two  hundred  and  forty-four.  Couriers 
came  in"  constantly  from  country  precincts,  with  equally  favora- 


258  MACAKIA  ;   OR, 

ble  accounts,  and  at  ten  o'clock  it  was  ascertained,  beyond 
doubt,  that  lie  was  elected.  Irene  and  her  uncle  rode  down  to 
learn  the  truth,  and,  not  knowing'where  to  find  Mr.  Huntingdon, 
stopped  the  carriage  at  the  comer  of  the  main  street,  and  waited 
a  few  moments.  Yery  soon  a  rocket  whizzed  through  the  air, 
a  band  of  music  struck  up  before  Russell's  office,  and  a  nuniber 
of  his  adherents  insisted  that  he  should  show  himself  on  the  bal- 
cony. A  crowd  immediately  collected  opposite,  cheering  the  suc- 
cessful candidate,  and  calling  for  a  speech.  He  came  out,  and, 
in  a  few  happy,  dignified  words,  thanked  them  for  the  honor  con- 
ferred, and  pledged  himself  to  guard  most  faithfully  the  interests 
committed  to  his  keeping.  After  the  noisy  constituents  had  re- 
tired, he  stood  talking  to  some  friends,  when  he  clianced  to  recog- 
nize the  fiery  horses  across  the  street.  The  carriage-top  was 
thrown  back,  and  by  the  neighboring  gas-light  he  saw  Irene's 
white  face  turned  toward  him,  then  the  horses  sprang  off".  Mr. 
Campbell  noticed,  witliout  understanding,  the  sudden  start,  and 
bitter  though  triumphant  smile  that  crossed  his  face  in  the  midst 
of  pleasant  gratulations. 

"  Go  home,  Andrew.     I  know  now  what  I  came  to  learn." 

Irene  sank  back  and  folded  her  mantle  closer  around  her. 

"  Is  master  elected  ?" 

'*  No." 

"  Your  father's  speech,  last  week,  was  most  unfortunate  in 
every  respect,"  said  her  uncle,  who  felt  indignant  and  mortified 
at  the  course  pursued  by  his  brother-in-law. 

"  We  will  not  discuss  it,  if  you  please,  uncle  Eric,  as  it  is  en- 
tirely useless  now." 

"  Don't  you  tuink  that  Aubrey  deserves  to  succeed  ?" 

"  Yes." 

Her  dreary  tone  disconcerted  him,  and  he  offered  no  farther 
comment,  little  suspecting  that  her  hands  were  pressed  hard 
against  her  heart,  and  that  her  voiceless  sorrow  was  :  "  Hence- 
forth we  must  be  still  more  estranged  ;  a  wider  gulf,  from  this 
night,  divides  us." 

The  din,  the  tumult  of  the  day,  had  hushed  itself,  and  deep  si- 
lence brooded  over  the  sleeping  town,  when,  by  the  light  of  the 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  259 

ncwly-riscn  moou,  Russell  leaned  upon  the  little  gate  and  gazed 
on  the  neglected  cottage,  overgrown  with  vines  and  crumbling  to 
ruin.  A  sweet,  resigned  face  smiled  at  him  once  more  from  the 
clustering  tendrils  that  festooned  the  broken  window,  where,  in 
other  years,  his  motlier  had  been  wont  to  sit  at  work,  watcliing 
for  his  return  ;  and,  in  this  hour  of  his  first  triumph,  as  he  sought 
the  hallowed  spot,  and  thought  of  her  long  martyrdom,  recollec- 
tion rolled  its  troubled  waves  over  his  throbbing,  exultant  heart, 
until  the  proud  head  drooped  on  the  folded  arms,  and  tears  fell 
upon  the  mouldering  gate. 

**  Oh,  mother  !  mother  !  if  you  could  have  lived  to  see  this 
day — to  share  my  victory  I" 

"  Ghost-like  I  paced  round  the  haunts  of  my  childhood, 

Earth  seemed  a  desert  I  was  bound  to  traverse, 

Seeking  to  find  the  old  familiar  faces. 

t  *****  ■n 

All,  all  are  gone,  the  old  familiar  faces  !'' 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

The  icy  breath  of  winter,  the  mild  wandering  airs  of  spring, 
the  luxurious  laissez-nous-faire  murmurs  of  summer,  and  the  sol- 
emn moan  of  autumn,  bad  followed  each  other  in  rapid  succes- 
sion. Two  years  rolled  on,  stained  with  the  tears  of  many,  ring- 
ing with  the  songs  and  laughter  of  a  fortunate  few.  The  paths 
of  some  had  widened  into  sunny  pastures,  flower-starred,  Crida- 
vana  meadows  ;  others  had  grown  narrower  still,  choked  with 
the  debris  of  dead  hopes,  which  the  tide  of  time  drifted  from  the 
far-off  glittering  peaks  of  early  a^^pirations.     The   witchery  of 

Southern  spring  again  enveloped  W ,  and  Irene  stood  on 

the  lawn  surveying  the  "greenery  of  the  out-door  world"  that 
surrounded  her.  Peach  and  plum  orchards  on  the  slope  of  a 
neighboring  hill  wore  their  festal  robes  of  promise,  and  as  the 
loitering  breeze  stole  down  to  tlie  valley,  they  showered  rosy  per- 
fumed shells,  tiny  avant  couriers  of  abundant  fruitage.     The 


260  MAC  ARIA  ;   OR, 

air  was  redolent  with  delicate  distillations  from  a  thousand  flow- 
ery laboratories,  stately  magnolias  rustled  their  polished  shim- 
mering leaves,  long-haired  acacias  trailed  their  fringy  shadows 
over  the  young  wavering  grass-blades  ;  and,  far  above  the  soft 
gi-een  wilderness  of  tangled  willows,  regal  pines  spread  out  their 
wind-harps,  glittering  in  the  sunshine  like  spiculaa  of  silver.  A 
delicious  langor  brooded  in  the  atmosphere,  the  distant  narrow 
valleys  were  full  of  purple  haze  ;  beyond  and  above  the  town, 
that  nestled  so  peacefully  along  the  river  banks,  the  marble  fin- 
gers of  the  cemetery  gleamed  white  and  cold  ;  and  afar  off,  and 
over  all,  was  heard  the  measured  music  of  factory  bells,  chanthig 
a  hymn  to  sacred  and  eternal  Labor.  With  her  brown  straw 
hat  in  one  hand  and  a  willow-basket  filled  with  flowers  in  the 
other,  Irene  leaned  against  the  glossy  trunk  of  an  ancient  wild- 
cherry  tree,  and  looked  in  dreamy  abstraction  down  the  long 
shadowy  vista  of  venerable  elms.  Paragon  lay  panting  on  the 
grass  at  her  feet,  now  and  then  snapping  playfully  at  the  tame 
pigeons  who  had  followed  their  mistress  out  upon  the  lawn,  flut- 
tering and  cooing  contiuually  around  her  ;  and  a  few  yards  off 
a  golden  pheasant  and  two  peacocks  sunned  their  gorgeous  plu- 
mage on  the  smoothly-cut  hedges, 

"        .        .        .        .        Some  faces  show 
The  last  act  of  a  tragedy  in  their  regard, 
Though  the  first  scenes  be  wanting  ;'' 

and  in  this  woman's  sad  but  intensely  calm  countenance,  a  joy- 
less life  found  silent  history.  The  pale  forehead  bore  not  a  single 
line,  the  quiet  mouth  no  ripple  marks  traced  by  rolling  years  ; 
but  the  imperial  eyes,  coldly  blue  as  the  lonely  ice-girt  Marjelen- 
See,  revealed,  in  their  melancholy  crystal  depths,  the  dreary  iso- 
lation of  soul  with  which  she  had  been  cursed  from  infancy.  Her 
face  was  an  ivory  tablet  inscribed  with  hierogls-phics  which  no 
social,  friendly  ChampolUon  had  yet  deciphered.  Satiated  with 
universal  homage,  weary  of  the  frivolity  of  the  gay  circle  sur- 
rounding her,  and  debarred  from  all  hope  of  affectionate,  sympa- 
thetic intercourse  with  her  father,  her  real  life  was  apart  from 
the  world  in  which  report  said  that  she  ruled  supreme.  She  wan- 


ALTARS   OF   8ACRIPICE.  261 

dcred  in  tlie  primeval  temples  of  nature,  and  ministered,  a  soli- 
tary i)ricstess,  at  tlie  silent,  blazing  shrine  of  Astronomy.  The 
soft  folds  of  her  white  muslin  dress  stirred  now  and  then,  and  the 
blue  ribbons  that  looped  back  her  braided  hair  fluttered  like 
mimic  pennons  in  the  breeze  ;  but  the  clematis  bells  which  clus- 
tered around  her  cameo  pin  were  unshaken  by  the  slow  pulsa- 
tions of  her  sad  heart.  She  felt  that  her  life  was  passing  rapidly, 
unimproved,  and  aimless  ;  she  knew  that  her  years,  instead  of 
being  fragrant  with  the  mellow  fruitage  of  good  deeds,  Avere  te- 
dious and  joyless,  and  that  the  gaunt,  numbing  hand  of  ennui 
was  closing  upon  her.  The  elasticity  of  spirits,  the  buoyancy  of 
youth  had  given  place  to  a  species  of  stoical  mute  apathy  ;  a  men- 
tal and  moral  paralysis  was  stealing  over  her. 

The  slamming  of  the  ponderous  iron  gate  attracted  her  atten- 
tion, and  she  saw  a  carriage  ascending  the  avenue.  As  it  reach- 
ed a  point  opposite  to  the  spot  where  she  stood  it  halted,  the 
door  was  thrown  open,  and  a  gentleman  stepped  out  and  ap- 
proached her.  The  form  was  not  familiar,  and  the  straw  hat 
partially  veiled  the  features,  but  he  paused  before  her,  and  said, 
with  a  genial  smile  : 

"  Don't  you  know  me  ?" 

*'  Oh,  Harvey  I     My  brother  !     My  great  guardian  angel  !" 

A  glad  light  kindled  in  her  face,  and  she  stretched  out  her 
hands  with  the  eagerness  of  a  delighted  child.  Time  had  pressed 
heavily  upon  him  ;  wrinkles  were  conspicuous  about  the  corners 
of  his  eyes  and  mouth,  and  the  black  hair  had  become  a  steely 
gray.     He  was  not 

"  A  little  sunburnt  by  the  glare  of  life,'' 
but  weather-beaten  by  its  storms  ;  and,  in  lieu  of  the  idiosyncra- 
tic placidity  of  former  days,  a  certain  restlessness  of  expression 
betokened  internal  disquiet.  Holding  her  hands,  he  drew  her 
nearer  to  him,  scrutinized  her  features,  and  a  look  of  keen  sor- 
row crossed  his  own  as  he  said,  almost  inaudibly  : 

"  I  feared  as  much  I  I  feared  as  much  1  The  shadow  has 
spread." 

"  You  kept  Punic  faith  with  me,  sir  ;  you  promised  to  write, 
and  failed.     I  sent  you  one  letter,  but  it  was  never  answered." 


262  MACAKIA  ;    OK, 

"  Through  no  fault  of  mine,  Irene  ;  I  never  received  it,  be- 
lieve me.     True,  I  expected  to  write  to  you  frequently  when  I 
parted  with  you,  but  subsequently  determined  that  it  would  be 
best  not  to  do  so.     Attribute  my  silence,  however,  to  every  other^ 
cause  than  want  of  remembrance." 

"  Your  letters  would  have  been  a  great  stay  and  comfort  to 
me." 

"  Precisely  for  that  reason  I  sent  none.  I  knew  that  you 
must  Wily  upon  yourself  ;  that  I  could  not  properly  judge  of  the 
circumstances  which  surrounded  and  influenced  you.  Oue,  at 
least,  of  my  promises  has  been  "faithfully  fulfilled  :  I  have  prayed 
for  you  as  often  as  for  myself  in  all  these  years  of  separation." 

"  God  only  knows  how  I  have  wanted,  how  I  have  needed 
you,  to  guide  and  strengthen  me." 

She  raised  the  two  hands  that  still  held  hers,  and  bowed  her 
forehead  upon  them. 

"  You  had  a  better  friend,  dear  child,  always  near  you,  who 
would  have  given  surer  guidance  and  borne  all  your  burdens. 
What  I  most  dreaded  has  come  to  pass.  You  have  forgotten 
your  God." 

"  Xo  !  indeed,  no  !  but  He  has  forsaken  me." 

"  Come  and  sit  down  here,  and  tell  me  what  the  trouble  is." 

He  led  her  to  a  circular  seat  surrounding  a~  venerable  oak, 
and  placed  himself  where  he  could  command  a  full  view  of 
her  face. 

"  Mr.  Young,  you  must  have  had  a  hard  life  out  west ;  you 
have  grown  old  so  fast  since  I  saw  you.  But  you  have  been 
doing  good,  and  that  is  sufiBcient  recompense." 

"  I  have,  of  course,  endured  some  hardships  inseparable  from 
such  a  long  sojourn  on  the  frontier,  but  my  labors  have  been  so 
successful  that  I  forget  everything  in  my  great  reward.  Many 
a  fair  June  day  I  have  wished  that  you  could  see  my  congrega- 
tion, as  we  stood  up  to  sing  in  a  cool,  shady  grove  of  beech  or 
hackberry,  offering  our  orisons  in  '  God's  first  temples.'  No 
brick  and  mortar  wallSj  but  pavements  of  God's  own  living  green, 
and  dome  of  blue,  and  choir  of  sinless,  consecrated  birds.  My 
little  log  cabin  in  the  far  West  is  very  dear  to  me,  for  around  it 


ALTAES   OF   SACRIFICE.  2G3 

cluster  some  of  the  most  precious  reminiscences  of  my  life.  The 
greatest  of  my  unsatisfied  wants  was  tliat  of  congenial  companion- 
ship. I  betook  myself  to  gardening  in  self-defence,  and  finer  an- 
nuals you  never  saw  than  those  which  I  laised  on  my  liill-side. 
My  borders  I  made  of  mignonette,  and  the  rusty  front  of  my 
cabin  I  draped  with  beautiful  festoons  of  convolvulus.  My  her- 
mitage was  pleasant  enough,  though  hufiihle  indeed." 

"  Tell  me  the  secret  of  your  quiet  contentment.  By  what  spell 
do  you  invoke  the  atmosphere  of  happy  serenity  that  constantly 
surrounds  you  ?" 

"  It  is  neither  occult  nor  cabalistic  ;  you  will  find  it  contained 
in  the  few  words  of  Paul  :  '  Be  ye  steadfast,  unmoveable,  always 
abounding  in  the  work  of  the  Lord  ;  forasmuch  as  ye  know  that 
your  labor  is  not  in  vain  in  the  Lord.'  There  is  nothing  recon- 
dite in  this  injunction  ;  all  may  comprehend  and  practice  it." 

"  It  may  seem  so  to  you,  who  dispense  peace  and  blessings 
wherever  you  move  ;  but  to  me,  alone  and  useless,  cut  off  from 
such  a  sphere  of  labor,  it  might  as  well  be  locked  up  in  Parsee. 
I  thought  once  that  God  created  every  human  being  for  some 
particular  work — some  special  mission.  That,  in  order  that  the 
vast  social  machinery  of  the  world  might  move  harmoniously, 
each  had  his  or  her  allotted  duties  in  accordance  with  the  great 
fundamental  law  of  economy — 'division  of  labor.'  But,  like 
many  oth^r  youthful  theories,  I  have  been  compelled  to  part 
with  this,  also." 

"  Rather  hold  fast  to  it,  for  the  precious  truth  it  is.  Do  you 
not  find,  on  reflection,  that  the  disarrangement,  the  confusion  in 
this  same  social  mill  proves  that  some  of  the  human  cogs  are 
broken,  or  out  of  place,  or  not  rendering  their  part  ?  I  am 
older  than  you,  and  have  traveled  farther,  and  I  have  yet  to  see 
the  New  Atlantis,  where  every  member  of  society  discharges 
fully  the  duties  assigned. 

"  '  I  might  say,  in  a  -world  full  of  lips  that  lack  bread, 
And  of  souls  that  lack  light,  there  are  mouths  to  be  fed, 
There  are  wounds  to  be  healed,  there  is  work  to  be  done, 
And  life  can  withhold  love  and  duty  from  none  !'  " 

**  Irene,   '  why  stand  ye  here  all  the  day  idle  ?'     "W'hy  wait 


264  MACARIA  ;   OK, 

afar  off  to  glean,  wliere  you  should  be  a  busy  reaper  in  God's 
whitening  harvest-fields  ? — closing  your  ears  to  the  eager  cry, 
*  The  harvest  is  plentiful,  but  the  laborers  are  few  I" 

A  wintry  smile  flitted  over  her  lips,  and  she  shook  her 
head. 

"  Ah,  sir  I  long  ago  I  marked  out  a  different  programme  ; 
but  my  hands  are  tied.  I  am  led  along  another  path  ;  I  can  do 
nothing  now." 

"  You  owe  allegiance  first  to  your  Maker.  What  stands  be- 
tween you  and  your  work  ?  Irene,  tell  me,  what  is  this  dark 
cloud  that  shuts  out  sunshine  from  your  heart,  and  throws  such 
a  chill  shadow  over  your  face  ?" 

He  drew  down  the  hand  with  which  she  shaded  her  eyes,  and 
bent  his  head  till  the  gray  locks  touched  her  cheek.  She  did 
not  shrink  away,  but  looked  at  him  steadily,  and  answered  : 

"  It  is  a  cloud  that  enveloped  me  from  the  hour  of  my  birth, 
and  grows  denser  each  year  ;  I  can  neither  escape  from  nor  dis- 
sipate it.  It  will  not  break  in  storms  and  clear  away  ;  but,  per- 
chance, as  I  go  down  to  my  tomb  the  silver  lining  may  show 
itself.  The  sun  was  eclipsed  when  I  first  opened  my  eyes  in  this 
world,  and  my  future  was  faithfully  adumbrated.  I  am  not 
superstitious,  but  I  cannot  be  bhnd  to  the  striking  analogy — the 
sombre  symbolism." 

His  grave  face  was  painfully  convulsed  as  he  listened  to  her, 
and  it  was  with  difiBculty  that  he  restrained  himself  from  draw- 
ing the  head  to  his  shoulder,  and  revealing  all  the  depth  and 
strength  of  love  which  had  so  long  ruled  his  heart  and  saddened 
his  life.  But  he  merely  enclosed  her  hand  in  both  his  with  a 
gentle  pressure,  and  said  : 

"  Carry  out  your  metaphor,  and  at  least  you  must  admit  that, 
though  the  sun  was  eclipsed,  stars  come  out  to  light  you." 

"  But,  at  best,  one  shivers  and  gropes  through  the  cold  light 
of  stars,  and  mine  have  all  set  in  a  clouded  sky.  You  only  are 
left  to  me  ;  you  shine  on  me  still,  undimmed,  all  the  brighter  for 
my  gloom.  Oh  !  if  I  could  have  you  always.  But  as  w^ell 
stretch  out  my  hands  to  clutch  the  moon." 

He  started,  and  looked  at  her  wistfully,  but  the  utter  passion- 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  265 

lessness  of  her  face  and  manner  showed  him  all  too  plainly  the 
nature  of  her  feelings  and  her  ignorance  of  his  own. 

"  Irene,  you  deal  in  similies  and  vague  generalities.  Has  ab- 
sence shaken  your  confidence  in  me  ?  Be  frank  ;  tell  me 
what  this  haunting  trouble  is,  and  let  me  help  you  to  exor- 
cise it." 

"  You  can  not.     All  the  Teraphim  of  the  East  would  not 
avail.     Let  it  suffice  that,  many  years  since,  I  displeased  my 
father  in  a  trifling  matter  ;  and,  as  I  grew  older,  my  views  and 
wishes  conflicted  with  his.     I  disappointed  a  darling  plan  which 
he  had  long  cherished,  and  we  are  estranged.     We  live  here, 
father  and  daughter,  in  luxury  ;    we  give  and  go  to  parties  and 
dinners  ;  before  the  world  we  keep  up  the  semblance  of  affection 
and  good  feeling  ;  but  he  can  not,  will  not,  forgive  me.     I  have 
ceased  to  ask  or  to  expect  it  ;    the  only  possible  condition  of  re- 
conciliation is  one  to  which  I  can  never  consent  ;  and,  for  more 
than  two  years,  he  has  scarcely  spoken  to  me  except  when  com- 
pelled to  do  so.     I  pass  my  days  in  a  monotonous  round,  wishing 
for  to-morrow,  and  my  nights  yonder,  among  the  stars.     I  have 
little  money  to  dispense  in  charity  ;    I  dress  richly,  but  the  ma- 
terials are  selected  by  my  father,  who  will  have  my  clothing  of 
the  costliest  fabrics,  to  suit  his  elegant  and  fastidious  taste. 
Though  an  only  child,  and  presumptive  heiress  of  one  of  the  finest 
estates  at  the  South,  I  have  not  a  dime  in  the  world  which  I  can 
call  my  own,  except  a  small  sum  which  he  voluntarily  allows  me 
per  annum.     Mark  you,  I  do  not  complain  of  my  father— for,  in 
the  twinkhng  of  an  eye,  I  could  change  this  unnatural  position  of 
affairs  in  my  home  ;  I  only  mention  some  stern  facts  to  prove  to 
you  that  my  hands  are  tied.      It  was  once  the  fondest  desire  of 
my  life  to  expend  the  fortune  that  I  supposed  belonged  to  me  in 
alleviating  suffering  and  want,  and  making  people  happy  around 
me  ;    but,    like   other  dewy  sparkles  of  childhood,   this  hope 
vanished  as  the  heat  and  strife  of  life  overtook  me." 

She  spoke  in  a  low,  measured  tone,  unshaken  by  emotion,  and 
the  expression  of  dreary  abstraction  showed  that  she  had  long 
accustomed  herself  to  this  contemplation  of  her  lot.     The  minis- 

12 


266  MACARIA  ;   OR, 

ter  was  deeply  moved  as  he  watched  her  beautiful  calm  features, 
so  hushed  in  their  jo3'lessncss,  and  he  passed  his  hand  across  his 
eyes  to  wipe  away  the  moisture  that  so  unwontedly  dimmed 
them.  lie  pressed  her  fingers  to  his  lips,  and  said,  encour- 
agingly— 

"  Lift  thyself  ap  !  oh,  thou  of  saddened  face  ! 
Cease  from  thy  sighing,  draw  from  oat  thy  heart 
The  joyful  light  of  faith." 

"  You  asked  me  once  to  be  your  brother  ;  my  dear  child,  ,let 
me  prove  myself  such  now  ;  let  me  say  that,  perhaps,  it  is  your 
duty  to  yield  obedience  to  your  father's  wishes,  since  this  deplor- 
able alienation  results  from  your  refusal.  You  never  can  be 
happy,  standing  in  this  unnatural  relation  to  an  only  parent. 
Because  it  is  painful,  and  involves  a  sacrifice  on  your  part,  should 
you  consider  it  any  the  less  your  duty  ?  Has  he  not  a  right  to 
expect  that  his  wishes  should  guide  you  ?" 

She  rose  instantly,  and,  withdrawing  her  hands,  folded  them 
together,  and  replied,  with  an  indescribable  mingling  of  hauteur 
and  sorrow  : 

"  Has  he  a  right  to  give  ray  hand  to  a  man  whom  I  do  not 
love  ?  Has  he  a  right  to  drag  me  to  the  altar,  and  force  me  to 
swear  to  '  love  and  honor'  one  whom  I  can  not  even  respect  ? 
Could  you  stand  by  and  see  your  father  doom  your  sister  to 
such  a  miserable  fate  ?  I  would  consent  to  die  for  my  father 
to-morrow,  if  thereby  I  might  make  him  happy  ;  but  I  can  not 
endure  to  live,  and  bring  upon  myself  the  curse  of  a  loveless 
marriage  ;  and  God  is  my  witness,  I  never  will  I" 

Her  eyes  gleamed  like  blue  steel,  and  the  stern,  gem-like  fea- 
tures vividly  reminded  him  of  a  medal  of  the  noble  Medusa  which 
he  had  frequently  examined  and  admired  while  in  Rome.  In 
that  brief  flash  he  saw,  with  astonishment,  that  beneath  the 
studiedly  calm  exterior  lay  an  iron  will,  and  a  rigidness  of  pur- 
pose, which  he  had  never  conjectured  Ijclonged  to  her  character. 

"  Forgive  me,  Irene  ;  I  retract  my  words.  Ignorant  of  the 
nature  of  the  demand,  I  should  not  have  presumed  to  counsel 
you.  Keep  true  to  the  instincts  of  your  own  heart,  and  you 
will  never  go  far  astray  in  the  path  of  duty.     May  God  bless  and 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  267 

comfort  you  !  Otlier  frieuds  can  lend  you  no  assistance  in  these 
peculiar  circumstances." 

lie  could  not  trust  himself  to  say  more,  for  feelings  too  pain- 
ful for  utterance  stirred  the  depths  of  his  soul. 

For  some  moments  silence  reigned  ;  then,  standing  before  him, 
Irene  said,  with  touching  pathos  : 

"  My  friend,  I  am  so  desolate  I  so  lonely  I  I  am  drifting 
down  the  current  of  life  aimless,  hopeless,  useless  I  What  shall 
I  do  with  my  future  ?  I  believe  I  am  slowly  petrifying  ;  I 
neither  suffer  nor  enjoy  as  formerly  ;  my  feelings  are  deadened  ; 
I  am  growing  callous,  indifferent  to  everything.  I  am  fast  los- 
ing sympathy  for  the  sorrows  of  others,  swallowed  up  in  self, 
oblivious  of  the  noble  aspirations  of  promise.  I  am  cut  off  from 
companionship  ;  have  no  friend  save  an  uncle,  to  whom  I  could 
put  out  my  hand  for  support.  People  talk  of  the  desolation  of 
Western  wilds  and  Eastern  deserts  ;  but,  oh  !  God  knows  tliere 
is  no  isolation  comparable  to  that  of  a  woman  who  walks  daily 
through  halls  of  wealth  and  gay  saloons,  knowing  that  no  hu- 
man being  understands  or  truly  sympathises  with  her.  My  pro- 
phet !  as  you  long  ago  foretold,  lam  'treading  the  wine-press 
alone.'     Once  more  I  ask  you,  what  shall  I  do  with  my  life  ?" 

"  Give  it  to  God." 

"  Ah  !  there  is  neither  grace  nor  virtue  in  necessity.  He  will 
not  accept  the  worthless  thing  thrown  at  His  feet,  as  a  dernier 
resort.  Once  it  was  my  choice,  but  the  pure,  clear-eyed  faith 
of  my  childhood  shook  hands  with  me  when  you  left  me  in  New 
York." 

For  a  short  while  he  struggled  with  himself,  striving  to  over- 
come the  unconquerable  impulse  which  suddenly  prompted  him, 
and  his  face  grew  pallid  as  hers  as  he  walked  hiustily  across  the 
smooth  grass  and  came  back  to  her.  Her  countenance  was  lifted 
toward  the  neighboring  hill,  her  thoughts  evidently  far  away, 
when  he  paused  before  her,  and  said,  unsteadily  : 

"  Irene,  my  beloved  !  give  yourself  to  me.  Go  with  me  into 
God's  vineyard  ;  let  us  work  together,  and  consecrate  our  lives 
to  His  service." 

The  mesmeric  eyes  gazed  into  his,  full  of  wonder,  and  the  rich 


268 


MACAEIA  ;   OE, 


ruby  tint  fled  from  her  lips  as  she  pondered  his  words  in  un- 
feigned astonishment,  and  shaking  her  regal  head,  answered, 
slowly  : 

"  Harvey,  I  am  not  worthy.     I  want  your  counsel,  not  your 
pity." 

"  Pity  !  you  mistake  me.  If  you  have  been  ignorant  so  long, 
know  now  that  I  have  loved  you  from  the  evening  you  first  sat 
in  my  study  looking  over  my  foreign  sketches.  You  were  then 
a  child,  but  I  was  a  man,  and  I  knew  all  that  you  had  so  sud- 
denly become  to  me.  Because  of  this  great  disparity  in  years, 
and  because  I  dared  not  hope  that  one  so  tenderly  nurtured 
could  ever  brave  the  hardships  of  my  projected  life.  I  deter- 
mined to  quit  New  York  earlier  than  I  had  anticipated,  and  to 
bury  a  foolish  memory  in  the  trackless  forests  of  the  far  AYest. 
I  ought  to  have  known  the  fallacy  of  my  expectation  ;  I  have 
proved  it  since.  Your  face  followed  me  ;  your  eyes  met  mine  at 
every  turn  ;  your  glittering  hair  swept  on  every  breeze  that 
touched  my  cheek.  I  battled  with  the  image,  but  it  would  not 
avail  ;  I  resolved  not  to  write  to  you,  but  found  that  the  dearest 
part  of  my  letters  from  home  consisted  of  the  casual  allusions  which 
they  contained  to  you.  Then  came  tidings  from  Louisa  that  you 
were  probably  married — had  long  been  engaged  to  your  cousin  ; 
and,  though  it  wrung  my  heart  to  think  of  you  as  the  wife  of 
another,  I  schooled  myself  to  hope  that,  for  your  sake,  it  might 
be  true.  But  years  passed  ;  no  confirmation  reached  me  ;  and 
the  yearning  to  look  on  your  dear  face  once  more  took  possession 
of  me.  My  mother  wrote,  urging  me  to  visit  her  this  summer, 
and  I  came  out  of  my  way  to  hear  of  and  to  see  you.  The  world 
sneers  at  the  possibility  of  such  a  love  as  mine,  and  I  doubt  not 
that  it  is  very  rare  among  men  ;  but,  through  all  the  dreary  sep- 
aration, I  have  thought  of  you  as  constantly,  and  fondly,  and 
tenderly  as  when  I  first  met  you  in  my  father^s  house.  Irene, 
you  are  young,  and  singularly  beautiful,  and  I  am  a  gray-haired 
man,  much,  much  older  than  yourself  ;  but,  if  you  live  a  thou- 
sand years,  you  will  never  find  such  afiection  as  I  offer  you  now. 
There  is  nothing  on  earth  which  would  make  me  so  happy  as  the 
possession  of  your  love.     You  are  the  only  woman  I  have  ever 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  2G9 

seen  whom  T  even  wisli  to  call  my  wife — the  only  woman  who,  I 
felt,  eonld  lend  new  cliann  to  life,  and  make  my  quiet  hearth 
happier  by  her  presence.  Irene,  will  you  share  my  future  ?  Can 
yon  give  me  what  I  ask  ?" 

The  temptation  was  powerful — the  future  he  held  out  enticing 
indeed.  The  strong,  hol}^,  manly  love,  the  noble  heart  and  head 
to  guide  her,  the  firm,  tender  hand  to  support  her,  the  constant, 
congenial,  and  delightful  companionship — all  this  passed  swiftly 
through  her  mind  :  but,  crushing  all  in  its  grasp,  came  the  me- 
mory of  one  whom  she  rarely  met,  but  who  held  undisputed  sway 
over  her  proud  heart. 

Drawing  close  to  the  minister,  she  laid  her  hands  on  his 
shoulder,  and,  looking  reverently  up  into  his  fine  face,  said,  in 
her  peculiarly  sweet,  clear  voice  : 

"  The  knowledge  of  your  priceless,  unmerited  love  makes  me 
proud  beyond  degree  ;  but  I  would  not  mock  you  by  the  misera- 
ble and  only  return  I  could  make  you — the  affection  of  a  devo- 
ted sister.  I  would  gladly,  thankfully  go  with  you  to  your 
Western  home,  and  redeem  my  past  by  my  future — ^but,  as  your 
wife,  I  could  not  ;  and,  without  the  protection  of  your  honored 
name,  it  would  not  be  permitted  me  to  accompany  you.  I  look 
up  to  you  as  to  no  other  human  being  ;  I  revere  and  love  you, 
Harvey  ;  and,  oh  I  I  wish  that  I  could  pass  my  life  at  your 
side,  cheered  by  your  smile,  doing  some  good  in  the  world.  That 
I  do  not  love  you  as  you  wish,  is  my  great  misfortune  ;  for  I  ap- 
preciate most  fully  the  noble  privilege  you  have  tendered  me.  I 
do  not  say  what  I  earnestly  wish  could  happen,  that  you  will  find 
some  one  else  who  can  make  you  happy,  because  I  feel  that  no 
woman  whom  I  have  ever  met  is  worthy  of  being  your  wife.  But 
I  trust  that  the  pain  I  may  give  you  now  will  soon  pass  away, 
and  that,  in  time,  you  will  forget  one  who  is  utterly  undeserving 
of  the  honor  you  have  conferred  on  her  to-day.  Oh,  Harvey  ! 
do  not,  I  beg  of  you,  let  one  thought  of  me  ever  disquiet  your 
noble,  generous  heart." 

A  shiver  crept  over  her  still  face,  and  she  drooped  her  pale 
forehead.     She  felt  two  tears  fall  upon  her  hair,  and  in  silence 


270  MACAEIA  ;   OR, 

he  bent  down  and  kissed  her  softly,  tenderly,  as  one  kisses  a 

sleeping  babe. 

*'  Oh,  Harvey  !  do  not  let  it  grieve  you,  dear  friend  !" 

He  smiled  sadly,  as  if  not  daring  to  trust  himself  in  words  ; 

then,  after  a  moment,  laying  his  hands  upon  her  head,  in  the 

baptism  of  a  deathless  love,  he  gently  and  solemnly  blessed  her. 

When  his  fingers  were  removed  she  raised  her  eyes,  but  he  had 

gone  ;  she  saw  only  the  retreating  form  through  the  green  arches 

of  the  grand  old  avenue. 

"  Unlike  are  we,  unlike,  0  princely  heart ! 
Unlike  our  uses  and  our  destinies. 
Our  ministering  two  angels  look  surprise 
On  one  another,  as  they  strike  athwart 

Their  wings  in  passing 

The  chrism  is  on  thine  head— on  mine  the  dew, 
And  death  must  dig  the  level  where  these  agree." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Says  D'Alembert  :  "  The  industry  of  men  is  now  so  far  ex- 
hausted in  canvassing  for  places,  that  none  is  left  for  fulfilling 
the  duties  of  them  ;"  and  the  history  of  our  government  furnishes 
a  melancholy  parallel.  The  regular  quadrennial  storm  had  swept 
over  the  nation  ;  caucuses  had  been  held  and  platforms  fiercely 
fought  for,  to  be  kicked  away,  plank  by  plank,  when  they  no 
longer  served  as  scaffolding  by  which  to  climb  to  office.  Bu- 
chanan was  elected,  but  destined  to  exemplify,  during  his  admin- 
istration, the  truth  of  Tacitus'  words  :  ''  He  was  regarded  as 
greater  than  a  private  man  whilst  he  remained  in  privacy,  and 
would  have  been  deemed  worthy  of  governing  if  he  had  never 
governed."  The  heat  of  the  canvass  cooled,  people  settled  down 
once  more  to  a  condition  of  lethargic  indifference — bought  and 
sold,  sowed  and  reaped,  as  usual — little  realizing  that  the  tem- 
porary lull,  the  perfect  calm,  was  treacherous  as  the  glassy  green 
expanse  of  waters  which,  it  is  said,  sometimes  covers  the  location 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  271 

of  the  all-<lestroying  maelstrom  of  Moskoe.  ITaving  taken  an 
active  and  prominent  part  in  the  presidential  campaign,  and 
made  frequent  speeches,  Russell  found  himself  again  opposed  by 
Mr.  Huntingdon,  who  was  equally  indefatigable  during  the  ex- 
citing contest.  The  old  feud  received,  if  possible,  additional 
acrimony,  and  there  were  no  bounds  to  the  maledictions  heaj^ed 
upon  the  young  and  imperturbable  legislator  by  his  virulent  an- 
tagonist. Many  predicted  a  duel  or  a  street  encounter  ;  but 
weeks  passed,  and  though,  in  casual  meetings,  Mr.  Huntingdon's 
glare  of  hate  was  always  answered  by  a  mocking  smile  of  cold 
disdain,  the  cloud  floated  off  without  breaking  into  bloody 
showers. 

Mr.  Mitchel's  health  had  failed  so  rapidly,  as  winter  approach- 
ed, that  Dr.  Arnold  persuaded  him  to  try  the  efficacy  of  a  sea- 
voyage,  and  he  had  accordingly  sailed  from  New  Orleans  in  a 
vessel  bound  for  Genoa.  Irene  begged  the  privilege  of  accompa- 
nying him,  but  her  father  peremptorily  refused  ;  and  she  saw 
her  uncle  depart,  and  superintended  the  closing  of  his  house,  with 
silent  sorrow,  and  the  feeling  of  one  who  knows'  that  the  night  is 
deepening  around  her.  In  the  course  of  the  political  cataclysm 
much  chaff  came  to  the  surface,  and  whirled  along  with  porten- 
tous alacrity  ;  gossip  seemed  to  have  received  a  new  impetus, 
and  among  the  most  important  ondiis,  was  that  of  Irene's 
speedy  marriage  to  her  cousin.  Hundred-tongued  rumor  w^as 
busy,  too,  with  the  mysterious  fact  that  Russell  had  placed 
a  handsome  iron  raiUng  around  the  humble  home  of  his  boy- 
hood ;  had  removed  the  little  three-roomed  crumbling  dwelling, 
and  planted  shade  trees.  Much  curiosity  was  excited,  and  the 
only  plausible  solution  at  wdiich  the  kindly  inquiring  public 
arrived  was,  that  he  intended  to  marry  somebody.  But  whom  ? 
He  occasionally  visited  at  Judge  Harris'  and  Mr.  Henderson's, 
and,  as  he  had  been  seen  last  at  the  house  of  the  former,  by  a 
species  of  not  very  abstruse  ratiocination  it  was  finally  decided, 
and  promulgated  as  a  social  edict,  that  the  talented  young 
lawyer  would  soon  claim  Grace's  hand  at  the  altar.  In  less 
than  twenty-four  hours  all  of  fashionable  W had  dis- 
cussed  the  young  lady's  brilliant  future,  and  were  ready   to 


272  MACARIA  •   OR, 

tender  their  congratulations  to  the  ambitious  man,  who  was 
utterly  unconscious  of  the  commotion  which  his  individual  plans 
and  actions  had  induced.  This  insatiable  mania  for  obtaining 
information  about  other  people's  affairs  and  puiposes,  this  ridicu- 
lous and  contemptible  tittle-tattle,  this  news-mongering,  scandal- 
pedlaring  proclivity,  characteristic  of  cities,  towns,  villages,  and 
even  country  neighborhoods,  should  certainly  have  been  included 
by  the  Massachusetts  seer  in  his  catalogue  of  "  social  inflictions 
which  the  magistrate  cannot  secure  or  defend  you  from,  and 
which  must  be  intrusted  to  the  restraining  force  of  custom,  and 
proverbs,  and  familiar  rules  of  behavior  impressed  on  young 
people  in  their  school  days  ;"  and  I  trust  I  may  be  allowed  the 
additional  suggestion,  "  by  mothers  around  the  hearthstone." 
But,  unfortunately,  the  admirable  adage  ''  il  faut  attendre  le 
boiteux'^  finds  no  acceptation  in  beau  tnonde. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  of  Christmas  day  Irene '  went  into  the 
green-house  to  gather  a  bouquet  for  an  invalid  friend  in  towTi, 
and  had  almost  accomplished  her  errand  when  the  crash  and 
whir  of  wheels  drew  her  to  the  window  that  looked  out  on  the 
lawn.  Her  father  had  gone  to  the  plantation  early  that  morn- 
ing, and  she  had  scarcely  time  to  conjecture  whom  the  visitor 
would  prove,  when  Hugh's  loud  voice  rang  through  the  house, 
and,  soon  after,  he  came  clattering  in,  with  the  end  of  his  panta- 
loons tucked  into  his  boots  and  his  whip  trailing  along  in  true 
boyish  fashion.  As  he  threw  down  his  hat,  scattering  the  petals 
of  a  snowy  camelia,  and  drew  near  his  cousin,  she  saw  that  his 
face  was  deeply  flushed,  and  his  eyes  somewhat  bloodshot. 

"  Hugh  I  what  are  you  doing  here  ?  Father  expected  you 
to  overtake  him  at  Crescent  Bend  ;  you  said  last  night  that  you 
would  start  by  five  o'clock." 

"  Merry  Christmas,  my  beauty  !  I  have  come  for  my  Christ- 
mas gift.     Give  it  to  me,  like  the  queen  you  are." 

He  stooped  as  if  to  kiss  her,  but  she  shrank  back  instantly, 
and  said,  gravely  ; 

"  You  ought  not  to  make  promises  which  you  have  no  idea  of 
keeping  ;  father  will  be  annoyed,  and  wonder  very  much  what 
has  happened.     He  was  anxious  that  you  should  go  with  him." 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  273 

"  Oh  I  confound  the  plantation  1  I  wish  it  wonld  sink  1  Of 
all  other  days  none  but  Christmas  will  suit  him  to  tramp  down 
there  through  mud  and  mire.  The  fact  is,  I  did  not  go  to  sleep 
till  four  o'clock,  and  nobody  ought  to  be  unchristian  enough  to 
expect  me  to  wake  up  in  an  hour.  You  may  be  quiet,  though, 
for  I  am  on  my  way  now  to  that  paradise  of  black  mud.  I  only 
stopped  to  get  a  glimpse  of  you,  my  Sappho  !  my  Corinna  !  so 
don't  horailize,  I  pray  you." 

"  Better  wait  till  daylight,  Hugh  ;  you  know  the  state  of  the 
roads  and  condition  of  the  bridges.  It  will  be  safer,  and  an 
economy  of  time,  to  defer  it  till  morning,  since  you  h%ve  made  it 
so  late." 

"  No  ;  I  must  go  to-night,  for  I  have  an  engagement  to  ride 
with  Maria  Henderson,  and  I  can't  get  back  in  time  if  I  wait  till 
to-morrow  morning.  I  want  to  start  back  day  after  to-morrow. 
As  for  time,  Wildfire  will  make  it  the  better  for  the  darkness  ; 
he  is  as  much  afraid  of  night  and  shadows  as  if  he  had  a  con- 
science, and  had  maltreated  it,  master-like.  I  shall  convince  him 
that  all  Tam  O'Shanter's  witches  are  in  full  pursuit,  and  his 
matchles9»heels  his  only  salvation." 

A  shade  of  apprehension  settled  on  her  face,  and,  placing  the 
bouquet  in  a  basket,  she  turned  to  her  cousin,  saying  : 

"  Indeed,  you  can  not  be  insane  enough  to  drive  that  horse 
such  a  night  as  this  weather  threatens.  If  go  you  will,  in  the 
face  of  a  coming  rain,  leave  Wildfire  here,  and  drive  one  of  the 
carriage-horses  instead.  I  shall  be  uneasy  if  you  start  with  that 
vicious,  unmanageable  incarnation  of  lightning.  Let  me  ring  the 
bell  and  direct  Andrew  to  make  the  change." 

She  stepped  into  the  parlor  adjoining,  and  laid  her  fingers 
on  the  bell-cord,  but  he  snatched  up  the  hand  and  kissed  it  sev- 
eral times. 

"  No  I  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  don't  drive  my  own  pearl  of  Ara- 
l:)ia  I  I  can  manage  him  well  enough  ;  and,  beside,  what  do  you 
care  whether  he  breaks  my  neck  or  not  ?  Without  compunc- 
tion you  broke  my  heart,  which  is  much  the  greater  catastrophe." 

"  Come  into  the  library  ;  you  don't  know  what  you  are  say- 
ing." 

12* 


274  MACARIA  ;   OB, 

She  drew  him  into  the  room,  where  a  warm  fire  burned  cheer- 
fully, and  made  him  sit  down. 

"  Where  did  you  go  last  night  when  you  left  here  ?     Tell  me." 

"  To  Harry  Neal's  ;  a  party  of  us  were  invited  there  to  drink 
egg-nog,  and,  of  course,  found  something  stronger  afterward. 

Then  we  had  a  game  or  so  of  poker,  and ,  the  grand  j?wa/e 

is,  that  I  have  had  a  deuced  headache  all  day.  Ah,  my  sweet 
saint !  how  shocked  you  are,  to  be  sure  I  Now,  don't  lecture, 
or  I  shall  be  off  like  a  flash." 

Without  answering,  she  rang  the  bell  and  quietly  looped  back 
the  heavy  ^rimson  curtains. 

"  What  is  that  for  ?  Have  you  sent  for  John  or  old  !N"ellie  to 
carry  me  up  stairs,  like  other  bad  boys  sent  to  bed  in  disgrace, 
without  even  the  cold  comfort  of  supper  ?" 

"  Hush,  Hugh  !  hush." 

Turning  to  John,  who  opened  the  door  and  looked  in,  she 
said  : 

"  Tell  William  to  make  some  strong  coffee  as  soon  as  possible. 
Mas'  Hugh  has  a  headache,  and  wants  some  before  he  leaves." 

"Thank  you,  my  angel  I  my  unapproachable  Peril  Ugh  I 
how  cold  it  is.     Pardon  me,  but  I  really  must  warm  my  feet." 

He  threw  them  carelessly  on  the  fender  of  the  grate. 

"  Shall  I  get  you  a  pair  of  slippers  ?" 

"  Could  not  afford  the  luxury  ;  positively  have  not  the  time 
to  indulge  myself." 

With  a  prolonged  yawn  he  laid  his  head  back  and  closed  his  eyes. 
An  expression  of  disgust  was  discernible  in  his  companion's  coun- 
tenance, but  it  passed  like  the  shadow  of  a  summer  cloud,  and 
she  sat  down  at  the  opposite  side  of  the  fire-place,  with  her  eyes 
bent  upon  the  hearth,  and  the  long  silky  lashes  sweeping  her 
cheeks.  A  silence  of  some  minutes  ensued  ;  finally  Hugh  rapped 
startlingly  on  his  boot  with  the  ivory  handle  of  his  whip,  and  ex- 
claimed : 

"  A  Quaker-meeting  is  no  part  of  my  programme  I  What  the 
mischief  are  you  thinking  about  ? — looking  as  solemn  as  an  arch- 
bishop in  canonicals  I" 

"  Do  you  really  want  to  know  what  I  am  thinking  of?" 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  275 

"  Of  course  I  do,  if  it  is  not  something  as  supernal  and  far  off 
as  the  stars,  which  you  have  takeu  under  your  special  protection 
and  patronage." 

"  I  was  thinking  of  a  passage  which  I  read  yesterday,  and 
wishing  that  it  could  be  framed  and  hung  up  in  every  dwelling. 
Emerson  says  :  '  Goethe  said  well,  "  nobody  should  be  rich  but 
those  who  understand  it.'*  They  should  own  who  can  adminis- 
ter, not  they  who  hoard  and  conceal  ;  not  they  wlio,  the  greater 
proprietors  they  are,  are  only  the  greater  beggars  ;  but  they 
whose  work  carves  out  work  for  more,  opens  a  path  for  all.  For 
lie  is  the  rich  man  in  whom  the  people  are  rich,  and  he  is  the 
poor  man  in  whom  the  people  are  poor  ;  and  how  to  give  all  ac- 
cess to  the  master-pieces  of  art  and  nature,  is  the  problem  of  civ- 
ihzation.'  Weighed  in  this  balance,  how  many  of  our  million- 
aires, think  you,  would  find  Belshazzar's  warning  traced  on  their 
walls  ?" 

"  All  of  which,  I  suppose,  I  am  to  interpret  into  a  polite  cir- 
cumlocutory way  of  telling  me  that  I  am  a  worthless  spendthrift, 
squandering  away  a  fortune  which  I  don't  deserve,  and  a  disgrace 
to  my  fair  cousinly  Lady  Bountiful  ?  When  do  you  contemplate 
mounting  a  pedestal,  marble  image  that  you  are,  folding  those 
incomparable  hands  of  yours,  and  encouraging  idolatry  ?  I  pro- 
mise you  I  shall  fall  down  and  worship  most  irreproachably. 
But  seriously,  Irene,  if  you  do  not  admire  my  style  of  living,  why 
don't  you  take  me  in  hand,  as  is  your  privilege,  and  make  me  a 
model  of  strait-laced  propriety  ?" 

"  You  might,  with  very  great  advantage  to  yourself,  take  a 
little  common-sense  in  hand.  Of  course,  Hugh,  you  are  your 
own  master,  but  it  frequently  pains  me  to  see  you  throwing  away 
your  life  and  privileges  so  recklessly.  You  might  do  a  vast 
amount  of  good  with  your  money,  if  you  felt  disposed  to  employ 
it  benevolently  and  judiciously." 

"  Well,  whose  fault  is  it  ?  I  offered  to  make  you  my  banker, 
and  let  you  dispense  charities  for  both  of  us,  and  you  snatched 
back  your  dainty  fingers  in  haughty  refusal.  If  I  play  Prodigal 
to  the  end  of  the  chapter,  you  are  responsible  for  it." 

*'  Begging  your  pardon,  sir,  I  am  no  scape-goat  for  any  of 


276  macaria;  or, 

your  short-comings.  Shoulder  your  own  peccadilloes,  if  you 
please.  But  here  comes  your  cofifee.  Put  the  waiter  on  the 
table,  John,  and  tell  Andrew  to  take  Mas'  Hugh's  buggy." 

"  Do  nothing  of  the  kind  \  but  send  somebody  to  open  that 
everlasting  gate,  which  would  not  have  disgraced  ancient  Thebes. 
Are  you  classical,  John  ?  Be  off,  and  see  about  it  ;  I  must 
start  in  five  minutes." 

"  Hugh,  be  reasonable  for  once  in  your  life  ;  you  are  not  in  a 
proper  condition  to  drive  that  horse.  For  my  sake,  at  least,  be 
persuaded  to  wait  till  morning.  Will  you  not  remain,  to  oblige 
me  ?" 

"  Oh,  hang  my  condition  I  I  tell  you  I  must  and  I  will  go, 
if  all  the  stars  fall  and  judgment  day  overtakes  me  on  the  road. 
What  splendid  coffee  you  always  have  !  The  most  fastidious  of 
bashaws  could  not  find  it  in  his  Moorish  heart  to  complain." 

He  put  on  his  hat,  buttoned  his  costly  fur  coat,  and,  flourish- 
ing his  whip,  came  close  to  his  cousin. 

"  Good-by,  beauty.  I  hate  to  leave  you  ;  upon  my  word  I 
do  ;  but  duty  before  pleasure,  my  heavenly-eyed  monitress.  I 
have  not  had  my  Christmas  present  yet,  and  have  it  I  will." 

"  On  one  condition,  Hugh  ;  that  yon  drive  cautiously  and  mod- 
erately, instead  of  thundering  down  hills  and  over  bridges  like 
some  express  train  behind  time.     Will  you  promise  ?" 

"  To  be  sure  I  will  I  everything  in  the  world  ;  and  am  ready 
to  swear  it,  if  you  are  sceptical." 

''Well  then,  good-by,  Hugh,  and  take  care  of  yourself." 

She  allowed  him  to  press  his  hot  lips  to  hers,  and,  accompany- 
ing him  to  the  door,  saw  him  jump  into  the  frail  open-topped 
buggy.  Wildfire  plunged  and  sprang  off  in  his  usual  style,  and, 
with  a  crack  of  the  whip  and  wave  of  his  hat,  Hugh  was  fairly 
started. 

Seven  hours  later  Irene  sat  alone  at  the  library  table,  absorb- 
ed in  writing  an  article  on  Laplace's  Nebular  Theory  for  the  sci- 
entific journal  to  which  she  occasionally  contributed  over  the  sig- 
nature of  "  Sabaean."  Several  books,  with  close  "  marginalias," 
were  scattered  around,  and  the  "  M6canique  Celeste  "  and  a  vol- 
ume of  '*  Cosmos"  lay  open  before  her.     The  servants  had  gone 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  277 

to  rest  ;  the  lionse  was  very  still,  the  silence  unbroken  save  by 
the  moan  of  tiie  wind  and  the  melancholy  tapping  of  the  poplar 
branches  agaimst  the  outside.  The  sky  was  black,  gloomy  as 
Malbolgc  ;  and,  instead  of  a  hard,  pattering  rain,  a  fine,  cold 
mist  drizzled  noiselessly  down  the  panes.  Wrapped  in  her  work, 
Irene  wrote  on  rapidly  till  the  clock  struck  twelve.  She  count- 
ed the  strokes,  saw  that  there  remained  but  one  page  uncopied, 
and  concluded  to  finish  the  MS.  At  last  she  affixed  her  nom 
de  plume,  numbered  the  pages,  and  folded  the  whole  for  trans- 
mission. The  fire  was  still  bright ;  and,  with  no  inclination  to 
go  to  sleep,  she  replaced  the  books  on  their  respective  shelves, 
turned  up  the  wick  of  the  lamp,  and  sat  down  close  to  the  grate 
to  warm  her  stiffened  fingers.  Gradually  her  thoughts  wander- 
ed from  the  completed  task  to  other  themes  of  scarcely  less  in- 
terest. The  week  previous  she  had  accompanied  Hugh  to  an 
operatic  concert  given  by  the  Parodi  troupe,  and  had  been  as- 
tonished to  find  Russell  seated  on  the  bench  in  front  of  her.  He 
so  rarely  showed  himself  on  such  occasions,  that  his  appearance 
elicited  some  comment.  They  had  met  frequently  since  the  eve- 
ning at  Mr.  Mitchell's,  but  he  pertinaciously  avoided  recognizing 
her  ;  and,  on  this  particular  night,  though  he  came  during  an  in- 
terlude to  speak  to  Grace  Harris,  who  sat  on  the  same  row  of 
seats  with  Irene,  he  never  once  directed  his  eyes  toward  the  lat- 
ter. This  studied  neglect,  she  felt  assured,  was  not  the  result 
of  the  bitter  animosity  existing  between  her  father  and  himself  ; 
and  though  it  puzzled  her  for  a  while,  she  began  finally  to  sus- 
pect the  true  nature  of  his  feelings,  and,  with  woman's  rarely 
erring  instincts,  laid  her  finger  on  the  real  motive  which  prompt- 
ed him.  The  report  of  his  engagement  to  Grace  had  reached 
her  some  days  before,  and  now  if  recurred  to  her  mind  like  a 
haunting  spectre.  She  did  not  believe  for  an  instant  that  he  was 
attached  to  the  pretty,  joyous  girl  whom  rumor  gave  him  ;  but 
she  was  well  aware  that  he  was  ambitious  of  high  social  position,, 
and  feared  that  he  might  possibly,  from  selfish,  ignoble  reasons, 
seek  an  alliance  with  Judge  Harris'  only  daughter,  knowing  that 
tlie  family  was  one  of  the  wealthiest  and  most  aristocratic  in  the 
state.      She  recollected,  with  unutterable  scorn,  the  frequent 


278  MAC  ARIA  ;   OE, 

sneers  at  his  blind  mother,  in  which  Grace,  Charlie,  and  even 
Mrs.  Harris  had  indulged  in  the  season  of  trial  and  adversity  ; 
and,  pondering  all  that  she  had  silently  endured  because  of  her 
sympathy  with  him  and  his  mother,  a  feeling  of  bitterness,  here- 
tofore unknown,  rose  in  her  heart.  True,  impassable  barriers 
divided  them  :  but  she  could  not  endure  the  thought  of  his  wed- 
ding another — it  tortured  her  beyond  all  expression.  With  a 
suffocating  sensation  she  unfastened  the  cameo  pin  that  held  her 
rohe  de  chambre  at  the  throat,  and  threw  back  the  collar. 
Taking  out  her  comb,  she  shook  down  her  hair,  gathered  it  up 
in  her  hands,  and  tossed  it  over  the  back  of  her  chair,  whence  it 
fell  to  the  floor,  coiling  there  in  glittering  rings.  Life  had  seem- 
ed dreary  enough  before  ;  but,  with  this  apprehension  added,  it 
appeared  insupportable,  and  she  was  conscious  of  a  degree  of 
WTetchedness  never  dreamed  of  or  realized  heretofore.  Not  even 
a  sigh  escaped  her  ;  she  was  one  of  a  few  women  who  permit  no 
external  evidences  of  suffering,  but  lock  it  securely  in  their  own 
proud  hearts,  and  in  silence  and  loneliness  go  down  into  the 
"  glioul-hauuted,"  darkened  chambers  to  brood  over  it,  as  did  the 
Portuguese  monarch  the  mouldering  remains  of  his  murdered 
wife.  The  painful  reverie  might,  perhaps,  have  lasted  till  the 
pallid  dawn  looked  in  with  tearful  eyes  at  the  window,  but  Par- 
agon, who  was  sleeping  on  the  rug  at  her  feet,  started  up  and 
growled.  She  raised  her  head  and  listened,  but  only  the  ticking 
of  the  clock  was  audible,  and  the  wailing  of  the  wind  through 
the  leafless  poplars. 

"  Down,  Paragon  !  hush,  sir  »" 

She  patted  his  head  soothingly,  and  he  sank  back  a  few  seconds 
in  quiet,  then  sprang  up  with  a  loud  bark.  This  time  she  heard 
an  indistinct  sound  of  steps  in  the  hall,  and  thought  :  "  Nellie 
sees  my  light  through  the  window,  and  is  coming  to  coax  me  up 
stairs."  Something  stumbled  near  the  threshold,  a  hand  struck 
the  knob  as  if  in  hunting  for  it,  the  door  opened  softly,  and,  muf- 
fled in  his  heavy  cloak,  holding  his  hat  in  one  hand,  Russell  Au- 
brey stood  in  the  room.  Neither  spoke,  but  he  looked  at  her 
with  such  mournful  earnestness,  such  eagar  yet  grieved  compassion, 
that  she  read  some  terrible  disaster  in  his  eyes.    The  years  of 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  279 

estrangement,  all  that  had  passed  since  their  childhood,  was  for- 
gotten :  studied  conventionalities  fell  away  at  the  sight  of  him 
standing  there,  for  the  first  time,  in  her  home.  She  crossed  the 
room  with  a  quick,  uncertain  step,  and  put  out  her  hands  toward 
him — vague,  horrible  apprehension  blanching  the  beautiful  lips, 
which  asked  shiveringly : 

"  What  is  it,  Russell  ?  what  is  it  ?" 

He  took  the  cold  little  hands  tremblingly  in  his,  and  endeavored 
to  draw  her  back  to  the  hearth,  but  she  repeated  ; 

"  What  has  happened  ?     Is  it  father,  or  Hugh  ?" 

"  Your  father  is  well,  I  believe  ;  I  passed  him  on  the  road 
yesterday.  Sit  down,  Miss  Huntingdon  ;  you  look  pale  and 
faint." 

Her  fingers  closed  tightly  over  his  ;  he  saw  an  ashen  hue  set- 
tle on  her  face,  and  in  an  unnaturally  calm  low  tone,  she  asked  : 

"  Is  Hugh  dead  ?  Oh,  my  God  !  why  don't  you  speak,  Rus- 
sell ?" 

"  He  did  not  suffer  much  ;  his  death  was  too  sudden." 

Her  face  had  such  a  stony  look  that  he  would  have  passed  his 
arm  around  her,  but  could  not  disengage  his  hand  ;  she  seemed 
to  cling  to  it  as  if  for  strength. 

"  Won't  you  let  me  carry  you  to  your  room,  or  call  a  servant  ? 
You  are  not  able  to  stand." 

She  neither  heeded  nor  heard  him. 

"  Was  it  that  horse  ;  or  how  was  it  ?" 

"  One  of  the  bridges  had  been  swept  away  by  the  freshet,  and, 
in  trying  to  cross,  he  missed  the  ford.  The  horse  must  have  been 
frightened  and  unmanageable,  the  buggy  was  overturned  in  the 
creek,  and  your  cousin,  stunned  by  the  fall,  drowned  instantly  ; 
life  was  just  extinct  when  I  reached  him." 

Something  like  a  moan  escaped  her,  as  she  listened. 

"  Was  anything  done  ?" 

"  We  tried  every  means  of  resuscitation,  but  they  were  entirely 
ineffectual." 

She  relaxed  her  clasp  of  his  fingers,  and  moved  toward  the 
door. 


280  MACAEIA  ;   OR, 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Miss  Huntingdon  ?  Inded  you  must 
sit  down." 

"  Russell,  you  haye  brought  him  home  ;  where  is  he  ?" 

Without  waiting  for  an  answer,  she  walked  down  the  hall,  and 
paused  suddenly  at  the  sight  of  the'  still  form  resting  on  a  grey 
traveling-blanket,  with  a  lantern  at  its  head,  and  an  elderly  man, 
a  stranger,  sitting  near,  keeping  watch.  Russell  came  to  her 
side,  and,  drawing  his  arm  around  her,  made  her  lean  upon  him. 
He  felt  the  long,  long  lingering  shudder  which  shook  the  elegant, 
queenly  figure  ;  then  she  slipped  down  beside  the  rigid  sleeper,  and 
smoothed  back  from  the  fair  brow  the  dripping,  curling,  auburn  hair. 

"  Hugh,  my  cousin  !  my  playmate  !  Snatched  away  in  an  hour 
from  the  life  you  loved  so  w^ell.  Ah  !  the  curse  of  oui*  house  has 
fallen  upon  you.  It  is  but  the  beginning  of  the  end.  Only  two 
of  us  are  left,  and  we,  too,  shall  soon  be  caught  up  to  join  you." 

She  kissed  the  icy  lips  which  a  few  hours  ago  had  pressed  hers 
so  warmly,  and,  rising,  walked  up  and  down  the  long  hall,  Rus- 
sell leaned  against  the  wall,  with  his  arms  crossed  over  his  chest 
and  his  head  bent  low,  waiting  for  her  to  speak  again.  But,  calm 
and  tearless,  she  walked  on  and  on,  iu  profound  silence,  till  he 
grew  restless  at  the  strange  sound  of  her  hair  trailing  along  the 
oil-cloth,  and  once  more  approached  her. 

''Are  you  entirely  alone  ?" 

"  Yes,  except  the  servants.  Oh,  Russell  I  how  am  I  to  break 
this  to  my  father  ?  He  loves  that  boy  better  than  everything 
else  ;  infinitely  better  than  he  ever  loved  me.  How  shall  I  tell 
him  that  Hugh  is  dead — dead  ?" 

"  A  messenger  has  already  gone  to  inform  him  of  what  has 
happened,  and  this  distressing  task  will  not  be  yours.     Herbert 

Blackwell  and  I  were  riding  together,  on  our  return  from  T , 

when  we  reached  the  ford  where  the  disaster  occurred.  Finding 
that  all  our  efforts  to  resuscitate  were  useless,  he  turned  back,  and 
went  to  your  father's  plantation  to  break  the  sad  intelligence  to 
him." 

His  soothing,  tender  tone  touched  some  chord  deep  in  her 
strange  nature,  and  unshed  tears  gathered  for  the  first  time  in 
her  eyes. 


ALTARS   OF  SACRIFICE.  2S1 

"  As  yon  have  no  friend  near  enough  to  call  upon  at  present, 
I  will,  if  3'ou  desire  it,  wake  the  servants,  remain,  and  do  all  that 
is  necessary  until  morning." 

"  If  you  please,  Russell  ;  I  shall  thank  you  very  much." 
As  her  glance  fell  upon  her  cousin's  gleaming  face,  her  lip 
fluttered,  and  she  turned  away  and  sat  down  on  one  of  the  sofas 
in  the  parlor,  dropping  her  face  in  her  hands.  A  little  while 
after,  the  light  of  a  caudle  streamed  in,  and  Russell  came  with  a 
cushion  from  the  library  lounge,  and  his  warm  cloak.  He  wrapped 
the  latter  carefully  about  the  drooping  form,  and  would  have  placed 
her  head  on  the  silken  pillow,  but  she  silently  resisted  without 
looking  up,  and  he  left  her.  It  was  a  vigil  which  she  never  forgot  ; 
the  slow  hours  crushed  her  as  they  rolled,  the  very  atmosphere 
seemed  filled  with  the  curse  which  brooded  inexorably  over  the 
ancient  house,  and  when,  at  last,  the  eastern  sky  blanched,  and 
the  wan  forehead  of  the  day  lifted  itself  sadly  up,  it  seemed,  indeed, 
as  if — 

"  The  dim  red  morn  had  died,  her  journey  done, 
And  with  dead  lips  smiled  at  the  twilight  plain. 
Half-fallen  across  the  threshold  of  the  sun, 
Never  to  rise  again." 

Shaking  off  her  covering,  Irene  passed  into  the  green-house,  and 
broke  clusters  of  jasmine  and  spicy  geranium  leaves,  and,thus  en- 
gaged, her  glance  fell  upon  the  dashed  camella  petals  which  Hugh 
had  rumed  so  recklessly  the  previous  evening.  They  seemed  fit- 
ting symbols,  as  they  lay  in  withering  heaps,  of  the  exuberant  life 
so  suddenly  cut  short — the  gay,  throbbing  heart  so  unexpectedly 
stilled. 

"    *       ♦       *  Life  struck  sharp  on  death 

Makes  awful  lightning." 

And  she  felt  a  keen  pang  at  sight  of  his  cambric  handkerchief, 
which  had  been  dropped  unconsciously  between  two  branching 
fuchsias.  As  she  stooped  and  picked  it  up,  his  name  stared  at  her, 
and  the  soft  folds  gave  out  the  powerful  breath  of  bergamot,  of 
which  he  was  particularly  fond.  She  turned  away  from  the  wealth 
of  beauty  that  mocked  her  sorrow,  and  walked  on  to  the 
library. 


282  MACARIA  ;   OK, 

The  fire  had  died  out  entirely,  the  curtains  were  drawn  back 
to  let  in  the  day,  on  the  library  table  the  startling  glare  of  white 
linen  showed  the  outlines  of  the  cold  young  sleeper,  and  Russell 
slowly  paced  the  floor,  his  arms  crossed,  as  was  their  habit,  and 
his  powerful  form  unweariedly  erect.  She  stood  by  the  table, 
half-irresolute,  then  folded  down  the  sheet,  and  exposed  the  hand- 
some, untroubled  face.  She  studied  it  long  and  quietly,  and  with 
no  burst  of  emotion  laid  her  flowers  against  his  cheek  and  mouth, 
and  scattered  the  geraniums  over  his  pulseless  heart. 

"  I  begged  him  not  to  start  yesterday,  and  he  answered  that 
he  would  go,  if  the  stars  fell  and  judgment  day  overtook  hhn. 
Sometimes  we  are  prophets  unawares.  His  star  has  set — his  day 
has  risen  I     Have  mercy  on  his  soul  !  oh,  my  God  I" 

The  voice  was  low  and  even,  but  wonderfully  sweet,  and  in  the 
solemn  morning  light  her  face  showed  itself  gray  and  bloodless-; 
no  stain  of  color  on  the  still  lips,  only  the  blue  cord  standing  out 
between  the  brows,  sure  signet  of  a  deep  distress  which  found  no 
vent.  Russell  felt  a  crushing  weight  lifted  fi'om  his  heart  ;  he 
saw  that  she  had  "  loved  her  cousin,  cousinly — no  more  ;"  and 
his  face  flushed  when  she  looked  across  the  table  at  him,  with 
grateful  but  indescribably  melancholy  eyes,  which  had  never  been 
closed  during  that  night  of  horror. 

"  I  have  come  to  relieve  you,  Russell,  from  your  friendly  watch. 
Few  would  have  acted  as  you  have  done,  and  for  all  your  generous 
kindness  to  poor  Hugh  I  thank  you  most  earnestly,  as  well  for 
my  father  as  myself.  The  day  may  come,  perhaps,  when  I  shall 
be  able  to  prove  my  gratitude,  and  the  sincerity  of  my  friendship, 
which  has  never  wavered  since  we  were  children  together.  Until 
that  day,  farewell,  Russell ;  but  believe  that  I  rejoice  to  hear  of 
your  successes." 

She  held  out  her  hand,  and,  as  he  took  it  in  his,  which  trem- 
bled violently,  he  felt,  even  then,  that  there  was  no  quiver  in  the 
icy  white  fingers,  and  that  his  name  rippled  over  her  lips  as  calmly 
as  that  of  the  dead  had  done  just  before.  She  endured  his  long, 
searching  gaze,  like  any  other  Xiobe,  and  he  dropped  the  little 
pearly  hand  and  quitted  the  room.  She  heard  l^is  quick  step 
ring  changes  down  the  long  hall  and   stony  steps,  and,  when 


ALTARS   OF    SACRIFICE.  283 

all  was  still  again,  she  knelt  beside  the  table,  and,  crossing  her 
arms  over  it,  bowed  her  face  upon  them.  Now  and  then  the  ser- 
vants looked  in,  but  crept  away  awed,  closing  the  door  stealthily  ; 
and  as  the  day  advanced,  and  the  news  of  what  had  happened  flew 
through  the  town,  friends  came  to  offer  assistance  and  condolence. 
But  none  dare  disturb  or  address  the  kneeling  figure,  veiled  by 
waving  hair,  and  giving  no  more  sign  of  life  than  the  form  before 
her.  At  ten  o'clock  Mr.  Huntingdon  returned,  and,  with  his  hat 
drawn  over  his  eyes,  went  straight  to  the  library.  He  kissed  the 
face  of  the  dead  passionately,  and  his  sob  and  violent  burst  of 
sorrow  told  his  child  of  his  arrival.  She  lifted  her  rigid  face,  and 
extended  her  arms,  pleadingly. 

"  Father  1  father  1  here,  at  least,  you  will  forgive  me  1" 
He  turned  from  her  sternly,  and  answered,  with  bitter  em- 
phasis ; 

"  I  will  not  1  But  for  you,  he  would  have  been  different,  and 
this  would  never  have  happened." 

"  Father,  I  have  asked  for  love  and  pardon  for  the  last  time. 
Perhaps,  when  you  stand  over  my  dead  body,  you  may  remem- 
ber that  you  had  a  child  who  had  a  right  to  your  affection. 
God  knows,  if  it  were  possible,  I  would  gladly  lay  my  weary  head 
down  to  rest,  here  on  Hugh's  bier,  and  give  him  back  to  your 
arms.  Life  is  not  so  sweet  to  me  that  I  would  not  yield  it  up  to- 
day without  a  murmur." 

She  bent  down  and  kissed  her  cousin,  and,  with  a  hard,  bitter 
expression  in  her  countenance,  went  up  to  her  own  room,  locking 
out  Paragon  and  old  Nellie,  who  followed  cautiously  at  her 
heels. 

*'  For  the  drift  of  the  Maker  is  dark,  an  Isis  Lid  by  the  veil. 
WTio  knows  the  ways  of  the  world,  how  God  will  bring  them  about  ?♦' 


284  macaria;  or, 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

"  "Where  are  you  going,  Irene  V 

"  Ouly  to  the  Factory-row." 

"  For  what,  I  should  like  to  know  ?" 

"To  see  Bessie  Davis,  who  has  been  very  ill." 

"  Fiddle-stick  I  I  want  the  carriage  myself.  I  promised  to 
send  down  to  the  hotel  for  Judge  Peterson,  who  is  coming  to 
spend  the  night  here." 

"Of  course,  father,  if  you  want  Andrew,  I  do  not  wish  to 
interfere  with  your  arrangements.  I  did  not  know  that  you  in- 
tended to  use  the  carriage.  John,  tell  Andrew  to  drive  the 
horses  back  to  the  stable-yard  until  called  for,  and  have  Erebus 
saddled  at  once.  Unpack  that  flat  basket  I  left  on  the  pantry- 
shelf,  and  put  the  things  into  one  with  a  handle,  that  I  can 
carry  in  my  hand.  The  egg-basket  wiU  do  very  well  ;  it  has  a 
cover." 

She  went  to  her  room,  changed  her  dress  for  her  riding- 
habit,  and  came  down  to  the  front  door,  where  her  father  sat 
smoking. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  that  basket  ?  Erebus  won't 
suffer  you  to  carry  it." 

"Yes,  sir  ;  he  will  suffer  just  what  I  please  to  take.  I  have 
a  bottle  of  wine,  some  jelly,  and  some  light  bread,  for  poor  Mrs. 
Davis." 

"  What  sort  of  wine  ?" 

"  Not  your  high-priced  sherry  or  port,  but  a  pint  bottle  of 
Madeira.  Tighten  that  girth  for  me,  Andrew,  if  you  please  ;  the 
saddle  turned  the  last  time  I  rode." 

"  I'll  bet  that  you  will  let  that  basket  fall  before  you  get  to 
the  gate,  and  lose  every  drop  in  it.  It  is  all  nonsense  I  sheer 
nonsense  1" 

She  made  no  reply,  but  mounted  the  beautiful,  spirited  animal, 
who  arched  his  neck  and  curveted  at  sigUt  of  the  basket.      Pat- 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  285 

ting  his  mane  soothingly,  she  hnng  the  basket  securely  on  the 
pommel  of  the  saddle,  and  rode  off. 

"  He  is  wilder  to-day  than  he  was  when  I  first  bought  him  ; 
he  will  break  her  neck  yet,  I  have  n't  a  doubt,"  muttered  Mr. 
Huntingdon,  looking  after  her. 

"  No  he  won't,  master  ;  she  can  tame  him  down  any  minute. 
Last  week  she  wanted  to  ride,  but  he  had  got  out  into  the  creek 
pasture,  and  I  could  n't  catch  him.  I  raced  him  for  a  half-hour 
up  and  down,  and  could  n't  come  near  him  ;  I  tried  him  with 
corn  and  fodder,  but  he  ran  like  a  deer.  I  give  it  up,  sir,  and 
told  Miss  Irene  he  was  in  one  of  his  tantrums,  and  I  could  do 
nothing  with  him.  She  just  put  on  her  hat  and  walked  over  to 
the  pasture,  and  the  minute  he  saw  her  coming  he  neighed  two 
or  three  times,  and,  before  I  could  get  to  her,  she  had  her  hand 
on  his  mane,  patting  him,  and  he  was  rubbing  his  head  against 
her.  Miss  Irene  can  tame  anything  in  this  world,  she  has  such 
a  steady,  conquering  look  in  her  eyes." 

Such  were  Andrew's  reassuring  words,  as,  with  his  hat  on  the 
back  of  his  head,  and  both  hands  thrust  into  his  deep  pockets, 
he  stood  watching  his  young  mistress,  until  a  turn  in  the  road 
obscured  both  horse  and  rider,  then  walked  back  to  the  stable. 

It  was  a  cold  afternoon  in  November — 

**  And  Autumn,  laying  here  and  there 
A  fiery  finger  on  the  leaves," 

had  kindled  her  forest  conflagration.  Golden  maples  and  amber- 
hued  cherries,  crimson  dog-woods  and  scarlet  oaks  shook  out 
their  flame-foliage  and  waved  their  glowing  boughs,  all  dashed 
and  speckled,  flecked  and  rimmed  with  orange  and  blood,  ghastly 
green,  and  tawny  brown.  The  hectic  spot  bm-ned  everywhere, 
save  on  the  solemn,  sombre  pines  that  lifted  themselves  defiantly 
far  above  the  fevered  region  of  decay.  Royal  clusters  of  golden- 
rod  were  blackened  and  seared  by  the  lips  of  an  early  frost,  and 
pallid,  starry  asters  shivered  and  dropped  their  faded  petals  as 
the  wind  bowed  their  fragile  heads.  The  smoky  atmosphere, 
which  had  hung  all  day  in  purple  folds  around  the  distant  hills, 
took  a  golden  haze  as  the  sun  sank  rapidly  ;  and  to  Irene's  gaze 


286  MACAEIA  ;  OR, 

river  and  wood-land,  hill-side  and  valley,  were  brimmed  with  that 
weird  "  light  which  never  was  on  sea  or  land."  Her  almost 
"  Brahminical"  love  of  nature  had  grown  with  her  years,  but  a 
holier  element  mingled  with  her  adoration  now  ;  she  looked 
beyond  the  material  veil  of  beauty,  and  bowed  reverently  before 
the  indwelling  Spiritual  Presence.  Only  during  these  silent  hours 
of  communion  afforded  by  her  solitary  rides  was  the  shadow  lifted 
from  her  heart,  and  at  such  times  immemorial  Cybele's  fingers, 
soft  and  warm,  touched  the  still  face,  and  the  icy  lines  melted. 
Since  Hugh's  death,  nearly  a  year  before,  she  had  become  a  re- 
cluse, availing  herself  of  her  mourning  dress  to  decline  all  social 
engagements,  and  during  these  months  a  narrow  path  opened 
before  her  feet,  she  became  a  member  of  the  church  which  she 
had  attended  from  infancy,  and  her  hands  closed  firmly  over  her 
life  work.  The  baffling  Sphinx,  that  had  so  long  vexed  her,  sat 
no  more  at  the  cross-roads  of  her  existence  ;  she  found  an  (Edi- 
pus  in  the  far  more  than  cabalistic  words  : 

"  Thy  path  is  plain  and  straight,  that  light  is  given, 
Onward  in  faith  !  and  leave  the  rest  to  heaven." 

Sorrow  and  want  hung  out  their  signs  among  the  poor  of 

W ,  and  here,  silently,  but  methodically,  she  had  become, 

not  a  ministering  angel  certainly,  but  a  generous  benefactress,  a 
noble,  sympathetic  friend — a  counsellor  whose  strong  good  sense 
rendered  her  advice  and  guidance  valuable  indeed.  By  a  system 
of  rigid  economy  she  was  enabled  to  set  apart  a  small  portion  of 
money  which  she  gave  judiciously,  superintending  its  investment ; 
kind,  hopeful  words  she  scattered  like  sunshine  over  every  threshold; 
and  here  and  there,  where  she  detected  smouldering  aspiration, 
or  incipient  appreciation  of  learning,  she  fanned  the  spark  with 
some  suitable  volume  from  her  own  library,  which,  in  more  than 
one  instance,  became  the  germ,  the  spring  of  "  a  joy  for  ever." 
Frequently  her  father  threw  obstacles  in  her  way,  sneering  all 
the  while  at  her  "  sanctimonious  freaks."  Sometimes  she  affect- 
ed not  to  notice  the  impediments,  sometimes  frankly  acknowl- 
edged their  magnitude  and  climbed  right  over  them,  on  to  her 
work.      Among  the  factory  operatives  she  found  the  greatest 


ALTAES   OF   SACRIFICE.  287 

need  of  ameliorating  touches  of  every  kind.  Improvident, 
illiterate,  in  some  cases,  almost  brutalized,  she  occasionally  found 
herself  puzzled  aS  to  the  proper  plan  to  pursue  ;  but  her 
womanly  heart,  like  the  hidden  jewelled  levers  of  a  watch,  guided 
the  womanly  hands  unerringly. 

This  evening,  as  she  approached  the  row  of  low  white-washed 
houses,  a  crowd  of  children  swarmed  out,  as  usual,  to  stare  at 
her.  She  rode  up  to  a  door-step  where  a  boy  of  some  fourteen 
years  sat  sunning  himself,  with  an  open  book  on  his  knee  and  a 
pair  of  crutches  beside  him.  At  sight  of  her  a  bright  smile  broke 
over  his  sickly  face  and  he  tried  to  rise. 

"  Good-evening,  Philip  ;  don't  get  up.    How  are  you,  to-day  V^ 

"  Better,  I  thank  you,  ma'm  ;  but  very  stiff  yet." 

"  The  stiffness  will  pass  off  gradually,  I  hope.  I  see  you  have 
not  finished  your  book  yet  ;  how  do  you  like  it  ?" 

"  Oh  !  I  could  bear  to  be  a  cripple  always,  if  I  had  plenty  like 
it  to  read." 

"  You  need  not  be  a  cripple  ;  but  there  are  plenty  more,  just 
as  good  and  better,  which  you  shall  have  in  time.  Do  you  think 
you  cQuld  hold  my  horse  for  me  a  little  while  ?  I  can't  find  a 
suitable  place  to  tie  him.  He  is  gentle  enough  if  you  will  only 
hold  the  reins." 

"  Certainly,  ma'm  ;  I  shall  be  glad  to  hold  him  as  long  as  you 
like." 

She  dismounted,  and,  taking  her  basket,  placed  the  bridle  in 
the  boy's  hand,  saying  encouragingly,  as  Erebus  put  up  his  ears 
and  looked  vicious  : 

"  Don't  be  afraid  of  him.  Speak  to  him  quietly  if  he  gets 
restless,  and  if  you  can't  keep  him  in  order,  call  me  ;  I  am  going 
in  next  door." 

He  smiled  assent,  and  wrapped  the  bridle  round  his  wrist,  and 
returned  eagerly  to  his  treasure,  Simms'  "  Life  of  Nathaniel 
Green,"  while  Irene  passed  into  the  adjoining  house.  Some 
sick  rooms  are  inviting  from  the  costly  display  of  marble,  rose- 
wood, velvet  and  silver,  from  the  tasteftd  arrangement  of  books 
and  flowers,  from  the  air  of  delicacy  and  affectionate  considera- 
tion which  pervades  them.     But  those  where  poverty  stands  grim 


288  MAC  ART  A  ;   OR, 

and  gaunt  on  the  hearth  are  rarely  enticing,  and  to  this  dreary- 
class  belonged  the  room  where  Bessie  Davis  had  suffered  for 
months,  watching  the  sands  of  life  run  low,  and  the  shadow  of 
death  growing  longer  across  the  threshold  day  by  day.  The 
dust  and  lint  of  the  cotton-room  had  choked  the  springs  of  life, 
and  on  her  hollow  cheeks  glowed  the  autograph  of  consumption. 
She  stretched  out  her  wasted  hand,  and  said  : 

"  Ah,  Miss  Irene  1  I  heard  your  voice  outside,  and  it  was 
pleasant  to  my  ears  as  the  sound  of  the  bell  when  work-hours 
are  over.  I  am  always  glad  to  see  your  face,  but  this  evening  I 
was  longing  for  you,  hoping  and  praying  that  you  would  come. 
I  am  in  trouble." 

"  About  what,  Mrs.  Davis  ?  K'othing  serious,  I  hope  ;  tell 
me." 

"  I  don't  know  how  serious  it  is  going  to  be.  Johnnie  is  sick 
in  the  next  room,  taken  yesterday  ;  and,  about  noon  to-day 
Susan  had  to  knock  off  work  and  come  home.  Hester  is  the 
only  one  left,  and  you  know  she  is  but  a  baby  to  work.  I  don't 
like  to  complain  of  my  lot,  God  knows,  but  it  seems  hard  if  we 
are  all  to  be  taken  down." 

"  I  hope  they  will  not  be  sick  long.  What  is  the  matter  with 
Johnnie  ?" 

"  Dear  knows  I  I  am  sure  I  don't  ;  be  complains  of  the  head- 
ache and  has  fever,  and  Susan  here  seems  ailing  the  same  way. 
She  is  as  stupid  as  can  be — sleeps  all  the  tune.  My  children 
have  had  measles,  and  whooping-cough,  and  chicken-pox,  and 
scarlet  fever,  and  I  can't  imagine  what  they  are  trying  to  catch 
now.  I  hear  that  there  is  a  deal  of  sickness  showing  itself  in 
the  row." 

*'  Have  you  sent  for  the  doctor  ?"  asked  Irene,  walking  around 
to  the  other  side  of  the  bed,  and  examining  Susan's  pulse. 

"Yes,  I  sent  Hester  ;  but  she  said  he  told  her  he  was  too 
busy  to  come." 

''Why  did  you  not  apply  so  some  other  physician  ?" 

"  Because  Dr.  Brandon  has  always  attended  me,  and,  as  I  sent 
for  him  first,  I  didn't  know  whether  any  other  doctor  would  like 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  289 

to  come.     You  know  some  of  tbcm  have  very  curious  notions 
about  their  dignity." 

"  And  sometimes,  while  they  pause  to  discuss  etiquette,  hu- 
manity suffers.  Susan,  let  me  see  your  tongue.  Who  else  is 
sick  in  the  row,  Mrs.  Davis  ?" 

"  Three  of  Tom  Brown's  children,  two  of  Dick  Spencer's,  and 
Lucy  Hall,  and  Mary  Moorhead.  Miss  Irene,  will  you  be  good 
enough  to  give  me  a  drink  of  water  ?  Hester  has  gone  to  try  to 
find  some  wood,  and  I  can't  reach  the  pitcher." 

"  I  brought  you  some  jelly  ;  would  you  like  a  little  now,  or 
shall  I  put  it  away  in  the  closet  ?" 

"  Thank  you  ;  I  will  save  it  for  my  Johnnie,  he  is  so  fond  of 
sweet  things  ;  and,  poor  child  1  he  sees  'em  so  seldom  now-a-day.'^ 

"  There  is  enough  for  you  and  Johnnie  too.  Eat  this,  while  I 
look  after  him,  and  see  whether  he  ought  to  have  any  this  even- 
ing." 

She  placed  a  saucer  filled  with  the  tempting  amber-hued  deli- 
cacy on  the  Uttle  pine  table  beside  the  bed,  and  went  into  the 
next  room.  The  boy,  who  looked  about  seven  or  eight  years 
old,  lay  on  a  pallet  in  one  corner,  restless  and  fretful,  his  cheeks 
burning,  and  his  large  brown  eyes  sparkling  with  fever. 

"Johnnie,  boy  !  what  is  the  matter?  Tell  me  what  hurts 
you  ?" 

"  My  head  aches  so  badly,"  and  tears  came  to  the  beautiful 
childish  eyes. 

"It  feels  hot.  Would  you  like  to  have  it  bathed  in  cold 
water  ?" 

"  If  you  please,  ma'am.  I  have  been  calling  Hettie,  and  she 
won't  hear." 

"  Because  she  has  gone  out.  Let  me  see  if  I  can't  do  it  just 
as  well  as  Hettie." 

She  hunted  about  the  room  for  a  cloth,  but,  finding  nothing 
suitable,  took  her  cambric  handkerchief,  and,  after  laving  his 
forehead  gently  for  ten  or  fifteen  minutes,  laid  the  wet  folds  upon 
it,  and  asked,  smilingly  : 

''  Does  n't  that  feel  pleasant  ?" 

"  Ever  so  nice,  ma'm — if  I  had  some  to  drink." 

13 


290  macaria;  or, 

She  put  the  dripping  gourd  to  his  parched  lips,  and,  after 
shaking  up  his  pillow  and  straightening  the  covering  of  his  pallet, 
she  promised  to  see  him  agmn  soon,  and  returne-d  to  his  mother. 

"  How  does  he  appear  to  be,  Miss  Irene  ?  I  had  him  moved 
out  of  this  room  because  he  said  my  coughing  hurt  his  head,  and 
his  continual  fretting  worried  me.  I  am  so  weak  now,  God 
help  me !"  and  she  covered  her  eyes  with  one  hand. 

"He  has  some  fever,  Mrs.  Davis,  but  not  more  than  Susan.  I 
will  ask  Dr.  Arnold  to  come  and  see  them  this  evening.  This 
change  in  the  weather  is  very  well  calculated  to  make  sickness. 
Are  you  entirely  out  of  wood  ?" 

"  Very  nearly,  ma'm  ;  a  few  sticks  left." 

"When  Hester  comes,  keep  her  at  home.  I  will  send  you 
some  wood.     And  now,  how  are  you  ?" 

"  My  cough  is  not  quite  so  bad  ;  the  pectoral  holds  it  a  little 
in  check  ;  but  I  had  another  hemorrhage  last  night,  and  I  am 
growing  weaker  every  day.  Oh,  Miss  Irene  !  what  will  become 
of  my  poor  little  children  when  I  am  gone  ?  That  is  such  an 
agonizing  thought."     She  sobbed  as  she  spoke. 

"  Do  not  let  that  grieve  you  now.  I  promise  you  that  your 
children  shall  be  taken  care  of.  I  will  send  a  servant  down 
to  stay  here  to-night,  and  perhaps  some  of  the  women  in  the  row 
will  be  willing  to  come  in  occasionally  and  help  Hester  till  Susan 
gets  able  to  cook.  I  left  two  loaves  of  bread  in  the  closet,  and 
will  send  more  in  the  morning,  which  Hester  can  toast.  I  shall 
go  by  town,  and  send  Dr.  Arnold  out." 

"  I  would  rather  have  Dr.  Brandon,  if  you  please." 

"  Why  ?" 

"  I  have  always  heard  that  Dr.  Arnold  was  so  gruff  and  un- 
feeling, that  I  am  afraid  of  him.  I  hate  to  be  snapped  up  when 
I  ask  a  question." 

"  That  is  a  great  mistake,  Mrs.  Davis.  People  do  him  injus- 
tice. He  has  one  of  the  kindest,  warmest  hearts  I  ever  knew, 
though  sometimes  he  is  rather  abrupt  in  his  manner.  If  you 
prefer  it,  however,  I  will  see  your  doctor.  Good-by  ;  I  will 
come  again  to-morrow," 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  291 

As  she  took  her  bridle  from  Philip's  hand,  the  boy  looked  up 
at  her  with  an  expression  bordering  on  adoration. 

"  Thank  you,  Philip  ;  how  did  he  behave  ?" 

"  Not  very  well  ;  but  he  is  beautiful  enough  to  make  up  for 
his  wildness." 

"  That  is  bad  doctrine  ;  beauty  never  should  excuse  bad  be- 
havior.    Is  your  mother  at  home  ?'' 

"  No,  ma'm." 

"  When  she  comes,  ask  her  I  say  please  to  step  in  now  and 
then,  and  overlook  things  for  Mrs.  Davis  ;  Susan  is  sick.  Philip, 
if  it  is  not  asking  too  much  of  you,  Johnnie  would  like  to  have 
you  sit  by  him  till  his  little  sister  comes  home,  and  wet  that  cloth 
which  I  left  on  his  head.     "Will  you  ?" 

"  Indeed  I  will ;  I  am  very  glad  you  told  me.  Certainly  I 
will." 

"  I  thought  so.  Don't  talk  to  him  ;  let  him  sleep  if  he  will. 
Good-by." 

She  went  first  to  a  wood-yard  on  the  river,  and  left  an  order 
for  a  cord  of  wood  to  be  sent  immediately  to  No.  13,  Factory- 
row  ;  then  took  the  street  leading  to  Dr.  Brandon's  office.  A 
servant  sat  on  the  step  whistling  merrily  ;  and,  in  answer  to  her 
question,  he  informed  her  that  his  master  had  just  left  town,  to 
be  absent  two  days.  She  rode  on  for  a  few  squares,  doubling 
her  veil  in  the  hope  of  shrouding  her  features,  and  stopped  once 
more  in  front  of  the  door  where  stood  Dr.  Arnold's  buggy. 

"  Cyrus,  is  the  doctor  in  his  office  ?" 

"  Yes,  Miss  Irene." 

"  Hold  my  horse  for  me." 

She  gathered  the  folds  of  her  riding-habit  over  her  arm,  and 
went  up  stairs.  Leaning  far  back  in  his  chair,  with  his  feet  on 
the  fender  of  the  grate,  sat  Dr.  Arnold,  watching  the  blue  smoke 
of  his  meerschaum  curl  lazily  in  faint  wreaths  over  his  head  ;  and 
as  she  entered,  a  look  of  pleasant  surprise  came  instantly  into 
his  cold,  clear  eyes.  ♦ 

"  Bless  me  !  Irene,  I  am  glad  to  see  you.  It  is  many  a  day 
since  you  have  shown  your  face  here  ;  sit  down.  Now,  then, 
what  is  to  pay  ?    You  are  in  trouble  of  course  ;  you  never  think 


292  MAO  ARIA  ;  OB, 

of  me  except  when  you  are.  Has  old  Nellie  treated  herself  to 
another  spell  of  rheumatism,  or  Paragon  broke  his  leg,  or  small- 
pox broke  out  anywhere  ;  or,  worse  than  all,  have  the  hawks 
taken  to  catching  your  pigeons  ?" 

"  None  of  these  catastrophes  has  overtaken  me  ;  but  I  come, 
as  usual,  to  ask  a  favor.  If  you  please,  I  want  you  to  go  up  to 
the  Factory-row  this  evening.  Mrs.  Davis,  Xo.  13,  has  two 
children  very  sick,  I  am  afraid.  I  don't  like  the  appearance  of 
their  tongues." 

*'  Humph  I  what  do  you  know  about  tongues,  I  should  like  to 
be  informed  ?" 

"  How  to  use  my  own,  sir,  at  least,  when  there  is  a  necessity 
for  it.  They  are  what  you  medical  savans  call  typhoid  tongues  ; 
and  from  what  I  heard  to-dav,  I  am  afraid  there  will  be  a  dis- 
tressiog  amount  of  sickness  among  the  operatives.  Of  course 
you  will  go,  sir  ?" 

"  How  do  you  know  that  so  well  ?  Perhaps  I  will,  and  per- 
haps I  won't.  Nobody  ever  looks  after  me,  or  cares  about  the 
condition  of  my  health  ;  I  don't  see  why  I  must  adopt  the  whole 
human  race.  See  here,  my  child  I  do  not  let  me  hear  of  you  at 
the  Row  again  soon,  it  is  no  place  for  you,  my  lily.  Ten  to  one 
it  is  some  low,  miserable  typhus  fever  showing  itself,  and  I  will 
take  care  of  your  precious  pets  only  on  condition  that  you  keep 
away,  so  that  I  shall  not  be  haunted  with  the  dread  of  having 
you,  also,  on  my  hands.  If  I  lay  eyes  on  you  at  the  row,  I 
swear  I  will  write  to  Leonard  to  chain  you  up  at  home.  Do 
you  hear  ?" 

*'  I  shall  come  every  day,  I  promise  you  that." 

"  Oh  !  you  are  ambitious  of  martyrdom  ?  But  typhus  fever 
is  not  the  style.  Queen.  There  is  neither  eclat  nor  glory  in  such 
a  death." 

A  sad  smile  curved  her  mouth,  as  she  answered,  slowly  : 

"  Indeed  you  wrong  me,  Doctor.  I  am  not  ready  to  die  ;  I 
am  lot  fit  for  eternity  ;  my  work  has  but  begun." 

"  Why  do  you  think  so,  my  dear  child  ?  What  sin  have  you 
ever  committed  ?" 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIPICE.  293 

"  Sins  of  omission,  sir,  foot  up  as  heavily  as  those  of  com- 
luission." 

"  Don't  tread  upon  my  Antinomianistic  toes,  if  you  please  ! 
they  are  tender.     Wherein  have  you  failed  to  do  your  duty  ?" 

*'  God,  and  my  own  soul,  only  sit  in  assize  upon  my  dere- 
lictions." 

"  Irene,  I  have  watched  you  for  years  with  hungry,  eager 
eyes  ;  and  of  late  I  have  followed  you  in  your  rounds  among 
the  poor.  You  are  inaugurating  a  new  system  ;  the  fashion  is, 
to  organize  societies,  flame  in  print,  as  officer,  president,  trea- 
surer, as  the  case  may  be,  and  placard  the  members  and  pur- 
poses of  the  organization.  Left  hand  industriously  puffs  what 
right  hand  doeth.  Is  it  not  so  ?  One  of  your  own  sex,  the 
greatest,  strongest,  noblest  of  your  learned  women  singers,  pithily 
tells  you  : 

*'  *  There  's  too  much  abstract  willing  purposing, 
In  this  poor  world.    We  talk  by  aggregates, 

And  think  by  systems If  we  pray  at  all, 

We  pray  no  longer  for  our  daily  bread, 

But  next  centenary's  harvests.    If  we  give, 

Our  cup  of  water  is  not  tendered  till 

W^e  lay  down  pipes  and  found  a  company 

With  branches.    A  woman  can  not  do  the  thing  she  ought, 

TMiich  means  whatever  perfect  thing  she  can, 

In  life,  in  art,  in  science,  but  she  fears 

To  let  the  perfect  action  take  her  part 

And  rest  there  ;  she  must  prove  what  she  can  do 

Before  she  does  it — prate  of  woman's  rights. 

Of  woman's  mission,  woman's  function,  till 

The  men  (who  are  prating  too,  on  their  side)  cry— 

A  woman's  function  plainly  is — to  talk. 

Poor  souls,  they  are  very  reasonably  vexed  ! 

They  can  not  hear  each  other  speak.' 

"  I  tell  you.  Queen,  I  have  watched  these  associations  all  my 
life  ;  I  am  getting  old  now,  and  I  am  as  completely  nauseated 
with  their  cant  and  phariseeism  as  Macauley  was  with  that  of 
the  seventeenth  century  Puritans.  Self-glorification  has  a  deal 
of  influence  over  our  modern  Dorcases." 

*'  I  think,  sir,  that  you  are  unjust  in  sofne  instances  ;  your 
cynical  lenses  distort  the  facts.     Judiciously-conducted  charita- 


294  MACARIA  ;   OE, 

ble  societies  greatly  facilitate  matters,  by  systematizing  the 
work  and  induciug  punctuality.  I  grant  that  the  evils  you  speak 
of  are  much  to  be  deprecated  ;  and,  to  complete  your  own 
lengthy  quotation  : 

"  *  I  'd  whisper — Soft,  my  sister  !  not  a  word  ! 
By  speaking,  we  prove  only  we  can  speak  : 
"UTiich.  he,  the  man  here,  never  doubted.     What 
He  doubts  is,  whether  he  can  do  the  thing 
With  decent  grace,  we  v'e  not  done  at  all ; 
Now  do  it!' 

**  Doctor,  I  wish  you  were  more  of  an  optimist." 

He  took  one  of  her  hands,  spread  out  the  ivory  fingers  on  his 
broad  palm,  and  said,  in  a  lower  tone  : 

"  My  Chaldean  priestess,  who  says  that  I  am  not  as  orthodox 
on  optimism  as  Leibnitz  himself  ?  Don't  you  know  that  I  am  a 
gort  of  latter-day  troglodyte,  very  rarely  airing  my  pet  creeds  for 
the  benefit  of  the  pubHc  ?  That  was  a  wise  law  of  Solon's 
which  declared  '  every  man  infamous  who,  in  seditious  or  civil 
dissensions  of  the  state,  remained  neuter,  and  refused  to  side 
with  either  party  ;'  but  I  do  not  regard  it  as  expedient,  or  in- 
cumbent upon  me,  to  advertise  my  individual  status  on  all  ethi- 
cal schisms.  What  is  it  to  the  public  whether  I  endorse  *  Can- 
dide'  or  Leibnitz's  *  Theodicea  V  " 

"  One  thiog  I  certainly  do  know,  with  great  regret,  that  your 
seeming  austerity,  your  roughness  of  manner,  renders  you  very 
unpopular  ;  whereas,  you  should  be  universally  beloved." 

''  Really  I  have  I  become  a  bugbear  in  my  old  age  ?" 

"  Not  that  exactly,  sir  ;  but  I  wish,  if  it  were  possible,  that 
you  would  not  mask  your  really  kind,  generous,  sympathizing 
heart  by  such  repellent,  abrupt  conduct  in  sick-rooms,  where  peo- 
ple expect  gentleness  and  consideration  on  the  part  of  a  physician. 
I  know  you  are  often  annoyed  by  senseless  and  ridiculous  ques- 
tions ;  but  I  wish,  for  your  own  sake,  that  you  could  be  a  little 
more  patient  with  poor,  weak  human  nature." 

"  Child,  I  am  not  gregarious  ;  never  was.  I  touch  my  hat 
to  the  world,  and  it  is  welcome  to  think  just  what  it  chooses 
of  me." 


ALTAKS   OF   SACRIFICE.  295 

"  No,  sir  ;  far  from  toiicliing  your  hat,  you  stand  aloof,  scowl- 
ing at  your  race,  smiling  grimly  at  the  struggling,  drowning  men 
and  women  around  you,  as  if  we  were  not  all  one  great 
family,  designed  by  God  to  assist  and  cheer  each  other.  Every 
man — " 

"  Pardon  me,  Queen  ;  but  I  am  not  one  of  those  deluded,  sdf- 
complaccnt  human  beings  who  actually  lay  the  '  flattering  unc- 
tion' to  their  souls  that  they  were  sent  into  this  world  for  some 
particular  purpose — some  special  mission.  I  want  you  to  dis- 
tinctly understand,  child,  that  I  don't  consider  myself  appoint- 
ed to  any  work  but  that  of  attending  to  my  own  affairs  and  tak- 
ing care  of  myself." 

"  Then  you  admit  yourself  a  marred,  imperfect  block,  rejected 
by  the  Divine  Architect  as  unworthy  of  a  place  in  the  grand 
social  temple.  God  clothed  you  with  human  affections  and  sym- 
pathies that,  in  accordance  with  the  fundamental  law  of  social 
existence,  you  might  extend  a  helping  hand  to  your  fellow- 
creatures." 

He  moved  restlessly,  and  his  gray,  shaggy  brows  met  in  a 
heavy  frown. 

"  I  believe,  Irene,  I  am  entirely  innocent  of  any  agrarian  or 
socialistic  tendency." 

"  And  so,  I  tiTist,  am  I.  But,  sir,  because  I  abhor  Brook- 
Farm,  I  will  not  take  refuge  in  the  cave  of  Trophonius." 

He  looked  up  at  her  with  one  of  his  steely,  probing  glances, 
then  the  brows  unbent,  and  he  drew  her  hand  caressingly  across 
his  cheek. 

"  Well,  child,  we  won't  quarrel  over  my  bearishness.  If  you 
will  keep  that  hard,  frozen  look  away  from  your  lips,  and  smile 
now  and  then  as  you  used  to  do  in  your  childhood  when  I  held 
you  on  my  knee,  I  will  promise  to  try  and  unearth  myself,  to  seal 
up  my  gnome  habitation,  and  buy  me  a  tub  which  I  can  drag 
after  me  into  the  sunlight.     Is  it  a  bargain  ?" 

"  That  is  problematical.  Doctor.  But  it  is  getting  late, 
and  I  wish,  if  you  please,  you  would  go  at  once  to  the  Row." 

"  Stop  I  if  any  good  is  accomplished  among  those  semi-savages 
up  yonder,  who  is  to  have  the  credit  ?    Tell  me  that." 


296  macaria;  or, 

"  God  shall  have  the  thanks  ;  you  all  the  credit  as  the  worthy 
instrument,  and  I  as  much  of  the  gratification  as  I  can  steal 
from  you.  Are  you  satisfied  with  your  wages,  my  honored  Shy- 
lock  ?     Good-night." 

"  Humph  !  it  is  strange  what  a  hold  that  queer,  motherless 
thild  took  upon  my  heart  in  her  babyhood,  and  tightens  as 
giie  grows  older. 

*  That  souls  are  dangerous  things  to  carry  straight 
Through  all  the  spilt  saltpetre  of  the  world,* 

who  will  question  ?  Not  I,  surely  ;  and  yet  I  know  that  girl 
will  take  hers  safely  to  the  terminus  of  time,  pure,  with  no  smut 
or  smell  of  gunpowder.  A  pearl  before  swine  I  But  I  swear, 
untrampled  to  the  end." 

He  shook  the  ashes  from  his  pipe,  put  it  away  behind  the 
clock,  and  went  down  to  his  buggy.  Before  breakfast  the  fol- 
lowing morning,  while  Irene  was  in  the  poultry-yard  feeding  her 
chickens  and  pigeons,  pheasants  and  peafowls,  she  received  a  note 
from  Dr.  Arnold  containing  these  few  scrawling  words  : 

"  If  you  do  not  feel  quite  ready  for  the  day  of  judgment,  avoid 
the  Bow  as  you  would  the  plagues  of  Egypt.  I  found  no  less 
than  six  developed  cases  of  rank  typhus. 

"  Yours, 

"  Hiram  Arnold." 

She  put  the  note  in  her  pocket,  and,  while  the  pigeons  flut- 
tered and  perched  on  her  shoulders  and  arms,  cooing  and  pecking 
at  her  fingers,  she  stood  musing — calculating  the  chances  of  con- 
tagion and  death  if  she  persisted.  Raising  her  eyes  to  the  calm 
blue  sky,  the  perplexed  look  passed  from  her  countenance,  and, 
fully  decided  regarding  her  course,  she  went  in  to  breakfast. 
Mr.  Huntingdon  was  going  to  a  neighboring  county  with  Judge 
Peterson,  to  transact  some  business  connected  with  Hugh's 
estate,  and,  as  the  buggy  came  to  the  door,  he  asked,  care- 
lessly— 

"  What  did  Cyrus  want  ?" 

"  He  came  to  bring  me  a  note  from  the  doctor,  concerning 
some  sick  people  whom  I  asked  him  to  see." 


ALTAES   OF   SACRIFICR.  297 

"  Ob—!  John,  put  my  over-coat  in  the  buggy.  Come,  Judge, 
I  am  ready." 

As  he  made  no  inquiry  about  the  sick,  she  volunteered  no  ex- 
planation, and  he  bade  her  good-by  with  manifest  cold  indiffer- 
ence. She  could  not  avoid  congratulating  herself  that,  since  he 
must  take  this  journey  soon,  he  had  selected  the  present  occasion 
to  be  absent,  for  she  was  well  aware  that  he  would  violently  op- 
pose her  wishes  in  the  matter  of  the  Row.  When  Dr.  Arnold 
met  her,  late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day,  at  little  Johnnie's 
side,  his  surprise  and  chagrin  found  vent,  first  in  a  series  of  oaths, 
then,  scowling  at  her  like  some  thunder-cloud  with  the  electrici- 
ty expended,  he  said  : 

"  Do  you  consider  me  a  stark  idiot,  or  a  shallow  quack  ?" 

"  Neither,  sir,  I  assure  you." 

"  Then,  if  I  know  anytliing  about  my  business,  I  wrote  you 
the  truth  this  morning,  and  you  treat  my  advice  with  cool  con- 
tempt. You  vex  me  beyond  all  endurance  !  Do  you  want  to 
thro\v  yourself  into  the  jaws  of  death  ?" 

"  Xo,  sir  ;  far  from  it  ;  but  I  had  incurred  the  risk  before  I 
was  aware  that  there  was  any.  Beside,  I  feally  do  not  think  I 
shall  take  the  fever.  I  believe  a  good  resolution  is  a  powerful 
preventive,  and  that,  you  know,  I  have." 

"  The  deuce  you  have  !  you  obstinate,  ungovernable  piece  of 
marble  !  Look  here,  Irene,  I  shall  go  straight  to  your  father 
and  let  him  know  the  facts.     It  is  my  duty,  and  I  mean  to  do  it." 

'*  I  don't  think  you  will,  for  he  started  to  B county  this 

morning.     And  now^,  Doctor,  you  may  just  as  well  quit  scolding 
me,  for  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  nurse  Johnnie,  come  what 

"  Yes  I  I  will  warrant  you  have  !  and  you  may  as  well  go 
make  up  your  shroud,  too — for  you  will  want  it,  I  am  thinking." 

"  Well,  my  life,  at  least,  is  my  own,  even  if  it  should  prove 
the  price." 

"Oh  I  is  it,  indeed?  What  has  become  of  that  pretty  doc- 
trine you  preached  to  me  yesterday  ?  I  thought  you  belonged 
to  the  whole  human  fraternity  ?    Your  life  yours,  indeed  1" 

13* 


298  MACARIA  ;   OR, 

"  You  forget,  Doctor  ;  '  greater  love  hath  no  man  than  this, 
that  he  lay  down  his  Hfe  for  his  friends.'  " 

She  shpped  her  hand  into  his,  and  looked  up,  smihng  and  calm, 
into  his  harsh,  swarthy  face. 

"  My  child,  you  made  a  mistake  ;  your  life  belongs  to  me,  for 
I  saved  it  in  your  infancy.  I  cradled  you  in  my  arms,  lest  death 
should  snatch  you,  I  have  a  better  right  to  you  than  anybody 
else  in  this  world.  I  don't  want  to  see  you  die  ;  I  wish  to  go 
first." 

''  I  know  what  I  owe  you.  Doctor  ;  but  I  am  not  going  to 
die,  and  you  have  scolded  me  enough  for  one  time.  Do  make 
peace." 

"  Remember,  I  warned  you,  and  you  would  not  heed." 

From  that  hour  she  kept  faithful  vigil  in  No.  3 — passing  con- 
tinually from  one  bedside  to  another.  Susan's  attack  proved 
comparatively  light,  and  she  was  soon  pronounced  convalescent  ; 
but  little  Johnnie  was  desperately  ill,  and  for  several  nights 
Irene  sat  at  his  pillow,  fearing  that  every  hour  would  be  his  last. 
While  his  delirium  was  at  its  height,  Hester  was  taken  violently, 
and  on  the  morning  when  Irene  felt  that  her  labor  was  not  in 
vain  and  that  the  boy  would  get  well,  his  little  sister,  whom  she 
had  nm'sed  quite  as  assiduously,  grew  rapidly  worse,  and  died  at 
noon.  As  is  frequently  observed  in  such  diseases,  this  increased 
in  virulence  with  every  new  case.  It  spread  with  astonishing  ce- 
lerity through  the  Row,  baffling  the  efforts  of  the  best  physi- 
cians in  W ;  and  finally,  the  day  after  Hester's  death,  as 

Irene  sat  trying  to  comfort  the  poor  mother,  a  neighbor  came  in, 
exclaiming  : 

"  Oh,  Miss  Irene  !  Philip  Martin  is  down  too.  He  caught 
the  fever  from  his  mother,  and  his  father  says  won't  you  please 
come  over  ?" 

She  went  promptly,  though  so  wearied  she  could  scarcely 
stand,  and  took  a  seat  by  the  bed  where  tossed  the  poor  boy  in 
whom  she  had  taken  such  an  interest  since  the  accident  which 
crushed  his  leg  in  the  machinery,  and  rendered  him  a  temporary 
cripple. 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE. 


299 


"  He  lias  been  talking  about  yon  constantly,  Miss  Irene,  and 
calling  for  you.     Philip,  my  son,  here  is  Miss  Irene." 

He  smiled  and  turned,  but  there  was  no  recognition  in  the  hot 
eyes,  and  after  an  instant  he  muttered  on  incoherently. 

*'  You  must  go  home,  Miss  Huntingdon  ;  you  are  worn  out. 
His  father  can  watch  him  till  his  mother  gets  stronger,"  said  Dr. 
Brandon,  who  was  fully  acquainted  with  her  unremitting  attend- 
ance at  the  next  house. 

"  No,  I  must  stay  with  Philip  ;  perhaps  he  will  Know  me  when 

he  wakes," 

A  hope  doomed  to  disappointment,  for  he  raved  for  four  days 
and  nights,  calling  frantically  for  the  serene,  sad  woman  who 
sat  at  his  pillow,  bending  over  him  and  laying  her  cold  hand  on 
his  scorched  brow.  On  the  fifth  day,  being  free  from  fever  and 
utterly  prostrated,  he  seemed  sinking  rapidly  ;  but  she  kept  her 
fingers  on  his  pulse,  and,  without  waiting  for  the  doctor's  advice, 
administered  powerful  stimulants.  So  passed  two  hours  of  pamful 
anxiety  ;  then  Phihp  opened  his  eyes  languidly,  and  looked  at 
her. 

"  Philip,  do  you  know  me  ?" 

"  Yes — Miss  Irene." 

She  sank  back  as  if  some  strong  supporting  hand  had  sudden- 
ly been  withdrawn  from  her  ;  and,  observing  that  she  looked 
ghastly,  Mr.  Martin  hastily  brought  her  a  glass  of  water.  Just 
then  Dr.  Brandon  entered,  and  examined  his  patient  with  evident 

surprise. 

"  What  have  you  done  to  him,  Miss  Huntingdon  ?" 

"  Since  daylight  I  have  been  giving  him  ammonia  and  brandy  ; 

his  pulse  was  so  feeble  and  thready  I  thought  he  needed  it,  and 

was  afraid  to  wait  for  you." 

"  Right  !  and  you  saved  his  life  by  it.     I  could  not  get  here 

any  earlier,   and  if  you  had  delayed  it  until  I  came  it  would 

probably  have  been  too  late.    You  may  call  hun  your  patient  after 

this." 

She  waited  no  longer,  but  staggered  to  the  door  ;  and  Andrew, 
seeing  how  faint  she  was,  came  to  meet  her,  and  led  her  to  the 
carriage.     The  ten  days  of  watching  had  told  upon  ]^i  ;  and 


300  MACARIA  ;   OR, 

when  she  reached  home,  and  Nellie  brought  her  wrapper  and 
unlaced  her  shoes,  she  fell  back  on  her  lounge  in  a  heavy,  death- 
like sleep.  Mr.  Huntingdon  had  been  expected  two  days  before, 
but  failed  to  arrive  at  the  time  designated  ;  and  having  her  fears 
fully  aroused,  Nellie  dispatched  a  messenger  for  Dr.  Arnold. 


CHAPTER  XXY. 

"  Do  YOU  see  any  change,  Hiram  ?" 

"  None  for  the  better." 

Mr.  Huntingdon  dropped  his  head  upon  his  hand  again,  and 
Dr.  Arnold  resumed  his  slow  walk  up  and  down  the  carpet. 
The  blue  damask  curtains  had  been  looped  back  from  the  western 
window,  and  the  broad  band  of  yellow  belting  in  the  sky  threw 
a  mellow  light  over  the  bed  where  lay  the  unconscious  heiress 
of  the  grand  old  Hill.  Fever  rouged  the  polished  cheeks  usually 
pure  as  alabaster,  and  touched  the  parted  lips  with  deeper  scarlet, 
lending  a  brilliant  and  almost  unearthly  beauty  to  the  sculptured 
features.  Her  hair,  partially  escaping  from  confinement,  straggled 
in  crumpled  rings  and  folds  across  the  pillow,  a  mass  of  golden 
netting  ;  and  the  sparkling  eyes  wandered  from  one  object  to 
another  as  if  in  anxious  search.  The  disease  had  assumed  a  dif- 
ferent type,  and  instead  of  raving  paroxysms,  her  illness  was 
characterized  by  a  silent,  wakeful  unconsciousness,  while  opiates 
produced  only  the  effect  of  increasing  her  restlessness.  A  week 
had  passed  thus — during  which  time  she  had  recognized  no  one, 
and  though  numerous  lady  friends  came  to  offer  assistance,  all 
were  refused  permission  to  see  her.  Mr.  Huntingdon  was  utterly 
ignorant  of  the  duties  of  a  nurse  ;  and  though  he  haunted  the 
room  like  an  unlifting  shadow,  Dr.  Arnold  and  Nellie  took  entire 
charge  of  the  patient.  The  former  was  unremitting  in  his  care, 
sitting  beside  the  pillow  through  the  long  winter  nights,  and 
snatching  a  few  hours  sleep  during  the  day.     Watching  her  now. 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  301 

as  he  walked  to  and  fro,  lie  noticed  that  her  eyes  followed  him 
earnestly,  and  he  paused  at  the  bedside  and  leaned  over  her. 

"  Irene,  what  dp  you  want  ?     Does  my  walking  annoy  you  ?" 

No  answer. 

"  "Won't  you  shut  your  eyes,  my  darling,  and  try  to  sleep  ?" 

The  deep,  brilliant  eyes  only  looked  into  his  with  mocking 
inteutness.  He  put  his  fingers  on  the  lids  and  pressed  them 
gently  down,  but  she  struggled,  and  turned  away  her  face.  Her 
hands  crept  constantly  along  the  snowy  quilt  as  if  seeking  for 
something,  and  taking  them  both  he  folded  them  in  his  and 
pressed  them  to  his  lips,  while  tears,  which  he  did  not  attempt 
to  restrain,  fell  over  them. 

"  You  don't  think  she  is  any  worse  do  you  ?"  asked  the  father, 
huskily. 

"  I  don't  know  anything,  except  that  she  can't  lay  this  way 
much  longer." 

His  harsh  voice  faltered  and  his  stern  mouth  trembled.  He 
laid  the  hands  back,  went  to  the  window  and  stood  there  till  the 
room  grew  dusky  and  the  lamp  was  brought  in.  As  Nellie 
closed  the  door  after  her,  the  doctor  came  to  the  hearth,  and 
said,  sharply  : 

"  I  would  not  be  in  your  place  for  John^  Jacob  Astor's 
fortune." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?" 

"  I  mean  that,  if  you  have  any  conscience  left,  you  must  suflfer 
the  pains  of  purgatory  for  the  manner  in  which  you  have 
persecuted  that  child." 

**  In  all  that  I  have  ever  done  I  have  looked  only  to  her  good, 
to  her  ultimate  happiness.     I  know  that  she — ." 

"  Hush,  Leonard  I  hush  I  You  know  very  well  that  you  have 
been  down  on  your  knees  before  the  Golden  Calf  ever  since  that 
girl  opened  her  eyes  in  this  plagued  world  of  trouble  1  You  are 
no  more  fit  to  be  a  father  than  I  am  to  be  a  saint  !  You  have 
tyrannized  and  fretted  her  poor  innocent  soul  nearly  out  of  her 
ever  since  she  was  big  enough  to  crawl.  Why  the  d — 1  could 
not  you  let  the  child  have  a  little  peace  ?  I  told  you  how  it 
would  end  ;  but  oh,  no  1  you  could  see  nothing  but  the  gilt  face 


302  macaeia;  or, 

of  your  bellowing  god  !  You  tormented  her  so  about  Hugh, 
that  anybody  else  would  have  hated  the  poor  fellow.  Mind  you 
she  never  opened  her  lips  to  me  with  reference  to  that  matter  in 
her  life  ;  she  would  have  been  gibbeted  first.  But  I  am  not 
blind  entirely  ;  I  knew  what  was  going  on  ;  I  knew  that  the 
proud,  sensitive  bird  was  hunted,  and  could  find  no  spot  to  rest 
upon.  There  are  ninety-nine  chances  to  one  that  she  has  come 
to  her  rest  at  last.  You  will  feel  pleasantly  when  you  see  her 
in  her  shroud." 

His  hard  face  worked  painfully,  and  tears  glided  down  the 
wrinkled  cheek  and  hid  themselves  in  his  gray  beard.  Mr. 
Huntingdon  was  much  agitated,  but  an  angry  flush  crossed  his 
brow  as  he  answered,  hastily  : 

"  I  am  the  best  judge  of  my  family  matters.  You  are  unjust 
and  severe.  Of  course,  I  love  my  child  better  than  anybody 
else." 

*'  Heaven  preserve  her  from  such  love  as  you  have  lavished  on 
her  I  She  is  very  dear  to  me.  I  understand  her  character  ; 
you  either  can  not  or  will  not.  She  is  the  only  thing  in  this 
world  that  I  do  really  love.  I  have  fondled  her  from  the  time 
when  she  was  a  week  old,  and  it  hurts  me  to  see  her  suffer  as 
she  has  done  ever  since  you  posted  her  off  among  strangers  in 
New  York.  It  will  go  hard  with  me  to  lay  her  down,  in  all  her 
loveliness,  in  the  grave.     My  pet,  my  violet-eyed  darling  !" 

He  shaded  his  face  and  swallowed  a  sob,  and  for  some  mo- 
ments neither  spoke.  After  a  while  the  doctor  buttoned  up  his 
coat  and  took  his  hat. 

"I  am  going  down  to  my  office  to  get  a  different  prescription. 
I  will  be  buck  soon." 

"  Mrs.  Harris  and  Mrs.  Clark  said  that  they  would  sit  up  to- 
night.    Hiram,  you  must  be  worn  out,  losing  so  much  sleep." 

"  Tell  Mrs.  Harris  and  Mrs.  Clark  to  go  to  Egypt  !  Do  you 
suppose  I  want  two  such  gossip-hawks  perched  over  my  dove  ? 
I  am  going  to  sit  up  myself.  Give  Irene  a  spoonful  of  that  mix- 
ture in  the  small  vial  at  seven  o'clock." 

Contrary  to  his  phlegmatic  habit,  the  doctor  had  taken  coun- 
sel of  his  fears  until  he  was  completely  unnerved,  and  he  went 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  303 

home  more  than  usually  surly  and  snappish.  As  he  entered 
his  office,  Russell  advanced  to  meet  him  from  the  window, 
whence,  for  nearly  an  hour,  he  had  been  watching  for  his  arrival. 

"  Good-evening,  doctor." 

"  What  do  you  want  ?" 

"  How  is  Miss  Huntingdon  ?" 

"  What  is  Miss  Huntingdon  to  you  ?" 

"  She  was  one  of  my  mother's  best  friends,  though  only  a  lit- 
tle girl  at  the  time." 

"  And  you  love  her  for  your  mother's  sake,  I  suppose  ?  Truly 
fiUal." 

"  For  that  matter,  she  is  beautiful  enough  to  be  very  easily 
loved  for  her  own  sake,  judging  from  the  number  of  her  devoted 
admirers.  But  I  certainly  am  very  grateful  for  her  kindness  to 
my  mother,  years  ago." 

"  And  well  you  may  be,  Aubrey  I  She  paid  dearly  for  her 
friendly  interest  in  your  family." 

"  In  what  respect,  sir  ?" 

"  In  more  respects  than  I  choose  to  recapitulate.  Did  you 
ever  know  where  she  got  the  two  hundred  dollars  which  she  gave 
your  mother  ?" 

"  I  presume  she  took  it  from  her  own  purse." 

"  She  borrowed  it  from  me,  and  paid  me  back  gradually  in  the 
money  that  her  father  gave  her,  from  time  to  time,  while  she 
was  at  boarding-school.  Cyrus  1  you  stupid  I  bring  me  some 
coffee." 

"How  is  she  to-night?  Rumors  are  so  unreliable,  that  I 
came  to  you  to  find  out  the  truth." 

"  She  is  going  to  die,  I  am  afraid." 

A  sudden  pallor  overspread  Russell's  face,  but  he  sat  erect  and 
motionless,  and,  fastening  his  keen  eyes  upon  him,  the  doctor 
added  : 

"  She  is  about  to  be  transplanted  to  a  better  world,  if  there 
is  such  a  place.  She  is  too  good  and  pure  for  this  cursed,  pes- 
tiferous earth." 

*'  Is  the  case  so  utterly  hopeless  ?  I  can  not,  I  will  not,  be- 
lieve it  I"  came  indistinctly  from  the  young  man's  bloodless  lips. 


304  macaria;  or, 

"  I  tell  you  I  know  better  !  She  stands  on  a  hair  stretched 
across  her  grave.  If  I  don't  succeed  to-night  in  making  her 
sleep  (which  I  have  been  trying  to  accomplish  for  two  days),  she 
can't  possibly  live.  And  what  is  that  whole  confounded  crew  of 
factory  savages  in  comparison  with  her  precious  life  ?" 

"Is  it  true  that  her  illness  is  attributable  to  nursino-  those 
people  ?" 

"  Yes.  D — 1  take  the  Row  I  I  wish  the  river  would  swal- 
low it  up." 

"  Is  she  conscious  ?" 

''  Heaven  only  knows  ;  I  don't.  She  lies  with  her  eyes  wide 
open,  looking  at  everything  as  if  she  were  searching  for  something 
which  she  had  lost,  but  never  speaks,  and  understands  nothing, 
except  to  swallow  the  medicine  when  I  put  the  spoon  to  her 
lips." 

"  If  I  could  only  see  her  !"  exclaimed  Russell,  and  an  expres- 
sion of  such  intense  agony  settled  on  his  features,  usually  so  in- 
flexible, that  his  companion  was  startled  and  astonished.  The 
doctor  regarded  him  a  moment  with  perplexity  and  compassion 
mingled  in  his  own  face  ;  then  light  broke  upon  him,  and,  rising, 
he  laid  his  hand  heavily  on  Russell's  shoulder. 

"  Of  course,  Aubrey,  you  don't  visit  at  that  house  ?" 

"  Of  course  not." 

"  Do  you  meet  her  often  ?" 

"  I  have  not  seen  her  for  nearly  a  year.  Not  since  the  night 
in  which  Hugh  Seymour  was  drowned." 

He  rose,  and  turned  away  to  screen  his  countenance  from  the 
scrutiny  to  which  it  was  subjected,  for  the  painful  shock  baffled 
all  his  efforts  at  self-control,  and  he  felt  that  his  face  would  be- 
tray him. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Aubrey  ?" 

"  Back  to  my  office." 

"  Is  there  any  message  which  you  would  like  for  me  to  deliver 
to  her,  if  she  should  recover  consciousness  ?  You  may  trust  me, 
young  man." 

"  Thank  you  ;  I  have  no  message  to  send.  I  merely  called  to 
ask  after  her.     I  trust  she  will  yet  recover.     Good-night." 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  305 

He  walked  on  rapidly  till  be  reached  the  door  of  his  office. 
The  gas  was  burning  brightly  over  his  desk,  and  red-tape  and 
legal-cap  beckoned  him  in  ;  but  fathomless,  blue  eyes,  calm  as 
mid-ocean,  looked  up  at  him,  and,  without  entering,  he  turned, 
and  went  through  the  cold  and  darkness  to  the  cemetery,  to  his 
mother's  tomb.  She  had  been  his  comfort  in  boyish  sorrows,  and 
habit  was  strong  ;   he  went  to  her  grave  for  it  still. 

When  Russell  left  him,  Dr.  Arnold  took  from  his  pocket  the 
only  solace  he  had  over  known — his  meerschaum.  While  he 
smoked,  and  mixed  some  powders  in  a  marble  mortar,  memory 
industriously  ran  back,  raking  amid  the  ashes  of  the  by-gone  for 
here  a  word  and  there  a  look,  to  eke  out  the  Ariadne  thread 
which  his  imagination  was  spinning.  The  possibility  of  an  at- 
tachment between  Irene  and  the  blind  widow's  son  had  never  oc- 
curred to  him  before  ;  but  that  Russell's  unmistakable  emotion 
could  be  referable  simply  to  gratitude  to  his  mother's  benefac- 
tress, was  an  explanation  of  which  he  was  disposed  to  be  very 
sceptical.  If  this  surmise  should  prove  correct,  what  were  Irene's 
feelings  toward  the  popular  young  politician  ?  Here  he  was  ab- 
solutely without  data  ;  he  could  recall  nothing  to  assist  him  ; 
but,  compr-^hending  the  bitter  animosity  existing  between  the 
lawyer  and  her  father,  he  sighed  involuntarily,  knowing  the  hope- 
lessness of  any  such  attachment  on  either  or  both  sides.  Deter- 
mined to  satisfy  himself  of  the  truth  at  the  earliest  opportunity, 
he  carefully  weighed  out  the  powder  and  rode  back  to  the  Hill. 
He  could  perceive  no  change,  unless  it  were  a  heightening  of  the 
carmine  on  cheeks  and  lips,  and  an  increased  twitching  of  the  fin- 
gers, which  hunted  so  pertinaciously  about  the  bed-clothes. 

"  That  everlasting  picking,  picking  at  everything,  is  such  an 
awful  bad  sign,"  said  poor  Nellie,  who  was  crying  bitterly  at  the 
foot  of  the  bed,  and  she  covered  her  face  with  her  apron  to  shut 
out  the  sight. 

"  You  'pick'  yourself  off  to  bed,  Xellie  !  I  don't  want  you 
snubbing  and  groaning  around,  day  and  night." 

"  I  am  afraid  to  leave  her  a  minute.  I  am  afraid  when  my 
poor  baby  shuts  her  eyes  she  will  never  open  ^em  again  till  she 
opens  'em  in  heaven." 


306  macaeia;  oe, 

"  Oh,  go  along  to  sleep  I  you  eternal  old  stupid.    I  will  wake 
you  up,  I  tell 'you,  if  she  gets  worse." 

He  mLxed  one  of  the  powders  and  stooped  down. 

"  Irene — Irene,  take  this  for  nue,  won't  you,  dear  ?" 

She  gave  no  intimation  of  having  heard  him  till  he  placed  the 
wineglass  to  her  mouth  and  raised  her  head  tenderly  ;    then  she 
swallowed  the  contents  mechanically.     At  the  expiration  of  an 
hour,  he  repeated  the  dose,  and  at  ten  o'clock,  while  he  sat 
watching  her  intently,  he  saw  the  eyelids  begin  to  droop,  the 
long,  silky  lashes  quivered  and  touched  her  cheeks.     When  he 
listened  to  her  breathing,  and  knew  that  at  last  she  slept,  his 
gray  head   sank   on   his   chest,  and  he  murmured,  inaudibly, 
*'  thank  God  !"     Patient  as  a  woman,  he  kept  his  place  at  her 
side,  fearing  to  move  lest  he  should  wake  her  ;  the  dreary  hours 
of  night  wore  away  ;  morning  came,  gloriously  bright,  and  still 
she  slept.     The  flush  had  faded,  leaving  her  wan  as  death,  and 
the  little  hands  were  now  at  rest.     She  looked  like  the  figures 
which  all  have  seen  on  cenotaphs,  and  anxiously  and  often  the 
doctor  felt  the  slow  pulse,  that  seemed  weary  of  its  mission.    He 
kept  the  room  quiet  and  maintained  his  faithful  watch,  refusing 
to  leave  her  for  a  moment.     Twelve  o'clock  rolled  round,  and  it 
appeared,  indeed,  as  if  Nellie's  prognostication  would  prove  true, 
the  sleeper  was  so  motionless.     At  three  o'clock  the  doctor 
counted  the  pulse,  and,  reassured,  threw  his  head  back  against 
the  velvet  lining  of  the  chair,  and  shut  his  aching  eyes.      Before 
five  minutes  had  elapsed,  he  heard  a  faint,  sweet  voice  say,  "  Pa- 
ragon."     Springing  to  his  feet,  he  saw  her  put  out  her  hand  to 
pat  the  head  of  her  favorite,  who  could  not  be  kept  out  of  the 
room,  and  howled  so  intolerably  when  they  chained  him  that  they 
w^ere  forced  to  set  him  free.     Now  he  stood  with  his  paws  on  the 
pillow  and  his  face  close  to  hers,  whining  with  delight.     Tears  of 
joy  almost  blinded  the  doctor  as  he  pushed  Paragon  aside,  and 
said,  eagerly  : 

"  Irene,  one  dog  is  as  good  as  another  !    You  know  Paragon; 
do  you  know  me.  Queen  ?" 

**  Certainly — I  know  you,  Doctor.'^ 


ALTARS   OF    SACRIFICE.  307 

"  Ood  bless  yon,  beauty  I  You  have  n't  known  me  for  a 
week." 

"  I  am  so  thirsty — please  give  me  some  water." 

He  lifted  her  head  and  she  drank  eagerly,  till  he  checked 
her. 

"  There — we  have  n't  all  turned  hydropathists  since  you  were 
taken  sick.  Nellie  I  I  say,  Nellie  1  you  witch  of  Endor  I  bring 
some  wine-whey  here.     Irene,  how  do  you  feel,  child  ?" 

"  Very  tired  and  feeble,  sir.  My  head  is  confused.  Where 
is  father  ?" 

"  Here  I  am,  my  daughter." 

He  bent  down  with  trembling  lips  and  kissed  her,  for  the  first 
time  since  the  day  of  their  estrangement,  nearly  three  years  be- 
fore. She  put  her  arras  feebly  around  his  neck,  and  as  he  held 
her  to  his  heart,  she  felt  a  tear  drop  on  her  forehead. 

"  Father,  have  you  forgiven  me  ?" 

He  either  could  not  or  would  not  answer,  but  kissed  her  again 
warmly  ;  and,  as  he  disengaged  her  arms  and  left  the  room,  she 
felt  assured  that,  at  last,  she  had  been  forgiven.  She  took  the 
whey  silently,  and,  after  some  moments,  said  : 

"  Doctor,  have  you  been  sitting  by  me  a  long  time  ?" 

"  I  rather  think  I  have  I — losing  my  sleep  for  nearly  ten 
days,  you  unconscionable  young  heathen." 

"  Have  I  been  so  ill  as  to  require  that  ?  I  have  a  dim  recol- 
lection of  goiug  on  a  long  journey,  and  of  your  being  by  my  side 
all  the  way." 

"  "Well,  I  hope  you  traveled  to  your  entire  satisfaction,  and 
found  what  you  wanted — for  you  were  feeling  about,  as  if  hunt- 
ing for  something,  the  whole  time.  Oh  !  I  am  so  thankful  that 
you  know  me  once  more.  Child,  you  have  cost  me  a  deal  of 
sorrow.  Now  be  quiet,  and  go  to  sleep  again  ;  at  least  don't 
talk  to  Nellie  or  Paragon.  I  shall  take  a  nap  on  the  sofa  in  the 
library." 

She  regained  her  strength  very  slowly,  and  many  days  elapsed 
before  she  was  able  to  leave  her  room.  One  bright  sunny  morning 
she  sat  before  the  open  window,  looking  down  on  the  lawn 
where  the  pigeons  flashed  in  and  out  of  the  hedges,  and  now  and 


308  MACAEIA  ;   OE, 

then  glancing  at  the  bouquet  of  choice  hot-house  flowers  in  the 
vase  beside  her.  In  her  lap  lay  a  letter  just  received  from  Har- 
vey Young — a  letter  full  of  fond  remembrance,  grave  counsel, 
and  gentle  encouragement — and  the  unbent  lines  about  her 
mouth  showed  that  her  mind  was  troubled. 
The  doctor  came  in  and  drew  up  a  chair. 
"  I  should  like  to  know  who  gave  you  leave  to  ride  yester- 
day ?" 

"  Father  thought  that  I  was  well  enough,  and  the  carriage 
was  close  and  warm.  I  hope,  sir,  that  I  shall  not  be  on  your 
hands  much  longer. ' 

"  What  did  I  tell  you  ?  Next  tune  don't  be  so  hard-headed, 
when  you  are  advised  by  older  and  wiser  persons.  I  trust  you 
are  quite  satisfied  with  the  result  of  your  elemosynary  perform- 
ances at  the  Row." 

"  Far  from  it.  Doctor.  I  am  fully  acclimated  now,  and  have 
nothing  to  fear  in  future.  I  am  very  sorry,  sir,  that  I  caused 
you  all  so  much  trouble  and  anxiety  ;  I  did  not  beHeve  that  I 
should  take  the  fever.  If  Philip  had  not  been  so  ill  I  should 
have  come  out  safely  ;  but  I  suppose,  my  uneasiness  about  him 
unnerved  me  in  some  way — for,  when  I  saw  that  he  would  get 
well,  all  my  strength  left  me  in  an  instant.     How  is  he,  sir  ?" 

"  Oh  !  the  young  dog  is  as  well  as  ever  ;  limps  around  now 
without  his  crutches.  Comes  to  my  office  every  day  to  ask  after 
his  blessed  Lady  Bountiful." 

Leaning  forward  carelessly,  but  so  as  to  command  a  full  view 
of  her  face,  he  added  : 

"  You  stirred  up  quite  an  excitement  in  town,  and  introduced 
me  generally  to  society.  People,  who  never  inflicted  themselves 
on  me  before,  thought  it  was  incumbent  on  them  to  hang 
around  my  door  to  make  enquiries,  concerning  my  fair  patient. 
One  night  I  found  even  that  statue  of  bronze  and  steel,  Russell 
Aubrey,  waiting  at  my  office  to  find  out  whether  you  really  in. 
tended  translation." 

A  change  certainly  passed  swiftly  over  her  countenance  ;  but 
it  was  inexplicable,  indescribable  ;  an  anomalous  lightening  of 
the  eye  and  darkening  of  the  brow.     Before  he  could  analyse  it 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  309 

her  features  resumed  their  wonted  serenity,  and  he  found  her  voice 
unfluttered. 

"  I  was  not  aware  that  I  had  so  many  friends  ;  it  is  a  pleasant 
discovery,  and  ahnost  compensates  for  the  pain  of  illness.  Take 
care,  Doctor  I     You  are  tilting  my  flowers  of  their  vase." 

"  Confound  the  flowers,  Queen  I  They  are  always  in  the  way. 
It  is  a  great  pity  there  is  such  Theban-brother  affection  between 
your  father  and  Aubrey.  He  has  any  amount  of  fine  feeling 
hid  away  under  that  dark,  Jesuitical,  non-committal  face  of  his. 
He  has  not  forgotten  your  interest  in  his  mother,  and  when  I  told 
him  that  I  thought  you  had  determined  to  take  your  departure 
from  this  world,  he  seemed  really  hurt  about  it.  I  always  liked 
the  boy,  but  I  think  he  is  a  heretic  in  politics." 

Looking  steadily  at  him  as  he  spoke,  she  smiled  coldly,  and 
answered  : 

"  It  is  very  apparent  that  the  fierceness  of  party  spirit,  this 
bitter  political  animosity,  is  driving  the  ship  of  state  on  the  rock 
of  ruin.  The  foamy  lips  of  the  breakers  are  just  ahead,  but  you 
men  will  not  open  your  eyes  to  the  danger." 

"  Better  get  some  of  you  wise  women  to  pilot  us,  I  dare  say  I" 
sneered  her  companion,  provoked  at  her  unsatisfactory  manner 
and  inflexible  features. 

''It  is  not  our  calling,  Doctor  ;  but  I  promise  you  if  the  ex- 
periment were  tried,  that  you  would  find  no  Palinorus  among  us. 
We  have  no  desire  to  thrust  ourselves  into  the  forum,  like  Ro- 
man women  '  storming  at  the  Oppian  Law  and  crushing  Cato  :' 
still  less  to  imitate  Hortensia,  and  confronting  august  Triumvirs 
in  the  market-place,  harangue  against  the  tax,  however  unjust. 
Practically,  women  should  have  as  little  to  do  with  politics  as 
men  with  darning  stockings  or  making  puff-paste  ;  but  we  should 
be  unworthy  of  the  high  social  status  which  your  chivalry  accords 
us  were  we  indifferent  to  the  conduct  of  public  affairs. 

*  Man  for  the  field,  and  -woman  for  the  hearth  : 
Man  for  the  sword,  and  for  the  needle  she : 
Man  with  the  head,  and  woman  with  the  heart : 
Man  to  command,  and  woman  to  obey.' 

Such  is  the  judicious  arrangement  of  nature — a  wise  and  hap- 


310  macaria;  ob, 

py  one  indubitably.  We  bow  before  it,  and  have  no  wish  to 
trench  on  your  prerogatives  ;  but  we  do  protest  against  your 
sleeping  on  your  posts,  or  lulling  yourselves  with  dreams  of  sel- 
fish ambition  when  Scylla  and  Charybdis  grin  destruction  on 
either  side." 

"  Phew— Queen  I  who  told  you  all  that  ?  Has  Aubrey  in- 
doctrinated you  in  his  '  fire-eating,'  schismatic  principles  ?  "What 
platform  do  you  propose  to  mount  ?" 

"  None,  sir,  but  that  of  the  constitution — ^ignoring  both  Whig 
and  Democratic  additions  which  make  it  top'  heavy.  I  don't 
like  latter-day  political  carpentering.  I  want  to  see  Nestors  in 
the  councils  of  my  country,  not  nerveless  imbeciles  or  worthless, 
desperate  political  gamesters." 

"  You  rabid  little  Jacobin  I  Don't  you  think  that  Portia- 
like, you  might  completely  transmogrify  yourself,  and  get  into 
Congress  and  Cabinet  long  enough  to  write  '  Mene^  mene^  on 
their  walls  ?" 

"  They  would  have  no  Daniel  there,  even  if  I  should,  which  is 
no  business  of  mine.  Doctor,  I  claim  to  be  no  politician  ;  a 
thousand  years  will  scarcely  produce  another  De  Stael.  I  am 
simply  a  true  lover  of  my  country — anxious  in  view  of  its  stormy, 
troubled  future." 

"  Aubrey  has  not  proselyted  you,  then,  after  all?" 

She  had  unlocked  her  writmg-desk,  and,  without  seeming  to 
hear  his  last  words,  handed  him  a  letter. 

"  Here  is  a  letter  from  uncle  Eric,  which  I  received  yesterday. 
It  contains  a  message  for  you  about  some  medical  books  and 
journals." 

He  muttered  somethmg  indistinctly,  put  the  letter  in  his 
pocket,  and  took  her  hand. 

"  Irene — what  is  the  matter,  dear  child  ?  Your  pulse  is  en- 
tirely too  quick." 

''  That  is  nothing  new.  Doctor.  Father  insists  that  I  shall 
drink  port-wine,  and  it  does  not  suit  me — keeps  my  head  aching 
continually." 

"  Try  porter  instead."  ,., 

She  shook  her  head  wearily. 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  311 

"  I  need  nothing,  sir,  but  to  be  let  alone." 

lie  smoothed  back  her  hair  and  said,  hastily  : 

"  You  will  never  get  what  you  need.  Oh,  child  I  why  won't 
you  trust  me  ?" 

''  Why— Doctor  I     I  do." 

"  Hush  I  don't  tell  me  that  1  I  know  better.  You  steel  that 
white  face  of  yours,  and  lock  your  confidence  from  the  old  man 
who  loves  you  above  all  other  things." 

She  drew  down  his  hand  from  her  head  and  leaned  her  cold 
cheek  upon  it. 

"  You  misunderstand  me,  sir  ;  I  repose  the  most  perfect  con- 
fidence in  you.  If  I  were  in  trouble,  and  .wanted  help  or  a  favor 
of  any  kind,  I  would  apply  to  you  sooner  than  to  any  other  hu- 
man being — for  you  have  always  been  more  patient  with  ray 
whims  than  even  my  own  father — and  I  should  be  worse  than  an 
ingrate  if  I  had  not  the  most  complete  trust  in  you.  My  dear, 
kind  friend,  what  have  I  done  to  fret  you  ?" 

He  did  not  reply,  but  searched  her  countenance  sorrowfully. 

"  Doctor,  tell  me  one  thing.  You  nursed  me  constantly  while 
I  was  unconscious,  and  I  want  to  know  whether  I  said  anything 
during,  my  delirium  that  surprised  or  annoyed  you." 

"  No  ;  the  trouble  was  that  you  sealed  your  lips  hermetically. 
Are  you  afraid  now  that  you  divulged  some  secret  which  I  may 
betray  ?" 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  your  betraying  anything — never  had  such 
a  thought.  When  do  you  think  that  I  may  take  a  horse-back 
ride  with  impunity  ?     I  am  so  tired  of  the  house." 

"  Xot  for  a  week,  at  least.  You  must  be  prudent,  Irene,  for 
you  are  not  strong  yet,  by  a  great  deal." 

"  I  wanted  to  talk  to  you,  this  morning,  about  something  very 
near  my  heart  ;  but  you  are  going." 

"  I  can  wait,  my  child.     What  is  it  ?" 

"  To-morrow  will  do  as  well.  I  want  you  to  aid  me  in  get- 
ting a  bill  passed  by  the  legislature,  appropriating  a  school  fund 
for  this  county.  Perhaps  you  can  obtain  Mr.  Aubrey's  influ- 
ence with  the  members  of  the  lower  house." 

"  Perhaps  I'll  go  to  the  North  Pole  to  cool  a  glass  of  amon- 


312  MACAEIA  ;    OR, 

tillado  for  your  majesty  I  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  have  anything  to 
do  with  it !  Why  the  deuce  can't  you  ask  Mr.  Aubrey  your- 
self ?" 

"  Because,  in  the  first  place,  you  know  very  well  that  I  never 
see  him,  and  I  could  not  ask  him,  even  if  I  should  meet  him  ; 
and,  beside,  I  do  not  wish  to  be  known  at  all  in  the  affair.  It 
is  not  a  woman's  business  to  put  forward  legislative  bills." 

*'  Indeed  I  Then  why  are  you  meddhng  with  other  people's 
business  ?'^ 

"Our  legislators  seem  to  have  forgotten  one  grand  and  good 
maxim  of  Lycurgus  :  '  Children  are  the  property  of  the  state,  to 
whom  alone  their  education  should  be  intrusted.'  They  have 
forgotten  that  our  poor  require  educating,  and  I  simply  desire 
some  of  their  constituents  to  call  their  attention  to  the  oversight. 
Doctor,  I  know  you  will  do  it." 

"  I  will  first  see  myself  floundering  like  Pharaoh  !  I'll  rake 
out  nobody's  chestnuts  I  Not  even  yours,  child  1  Put  down 
that  window  ;  the  air  is  too  chilly.  You  are  as  cold  as  an  ice- 
berg and  as  blue  as  a  gentian." 

The  doctor  had  scarcely  taken  his  departure  when  Nellie's  tur- 
baned  head  showed  itself  at  the  door. 

"  That  factory-boy,  Philip,  is  down  stairs  ;  he  brought  back  a 
book,  and  wants  to  see  you.  He  seems  in  trouble  ;  but  you 
don't  feel  like  being  bothered  to-day,  do  you  ?" 

"  Did  he  ask  to  see  me  ?" 

"  Not  exactly  ;  but  showed  very  plainly  he  wanted  to  see 
you." 

"  Let  him  come  up." 

As  he  entered,  she  rose  and  held  out  her  hand. 

"  Good-morning,  Philip  ;  I  am  glad  you  are  well  enough  to 
be  out  again." 

He  looked  at  her  reverently,  and,  as  he  noticed  the  change  her 
illness  had  wrought,  his  lips  quivered  and  his  eyes  filled. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Irene  !  I  am  so  glad  you  are  better.  I  prayed  for 
you  all  the  time  while  you  were  so  very  ill," 

"  Thank  you.     Sit  down,  and  tell  me  about  the  sick." 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  313 

"  They  are  all  better,  I  believe,  ma'm,  except  Mrs.  Davi?. 
She  was  wishing  yesterday  that  she  could  see  you  again." 

*'  I  sliall  go  there  in  a  day  or  two.  You  are  walking  pretty 
well  without  your  crutches.     Have  you  resumed  your  work  ?" 

"  I  shall  begin  again  to-morrow." 

"  It  need  not  interfere  \f\i\\  your  studies.  The  nights  are  very 
Jong  now,  and  you  can  accomplish  a  great  deal  if  you  feel  disposed 
to  do  so." 

He  did  not  answer  immediately,  and,  observing  the  cloud  on 
his  countenance,  she  added  : 

"  Philip,  what  is  the  matter  ?  You  look  troubled  ;  can  I  do 
anything  for  you  ?" 

A  deep  flush  mantled  his  sallow  cheek,  and,  drooping  his  head 
as  if  in  humiliation,  he  said,  passionately  : 

"  Oh,  Miss  Irene  !  You  are  the  only  friend  I  have.  I  am  so 
mortified  I  can  hardly  look  anybody  in  the  face.  Father  is  drink- 
ing again  worse  than  ever,  and  is  so  violent  that  mother  won't 
stay  at  home  ;  she  has  gone  across  the  river  for  a  few  days.  I 
have  done  all  I  could,  but  I  can't  influence  him." 

"  Where  is  he  now  ?" 

"  The  police  put  him  in  the  guard-house  last  night  for  creating 
a  disturbance.  I  suppose  when  the  Mayor  holds  court,  he  will 
be  fined  and  turned  out.  Miss  Irene,  I  feel  like  jumping  into  the 
river  and  drowning  myself.  It  is  so  horrible  to  be  ashamed  of 
my  own  father." 

He  dropped  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  she  saw  that  he  trem- 
bled violently. 

"  You  must  struggle  against  such  feelings,  Philip  ;  though  it 
is  certainly  very  mortifying  to  know  that  your  father  has  been 
arrested.  If  you  conduct  yourself  properly,  people  will  respect 
you  all  the  more  because  of  your  misfortune." 

"  Xo,  Miss  Irene  !  they  are  always  holding  it  up  to  me.  Hard 
as  I  try  to  do  right,  they  are  continually  sneering  at  me,  and 
sometimes  it  makes  me  almost  desperate." 

"  That  is  unjust  and  ungenerous.  No  one,  who  has  any  refine- 
ment or  goodness  of  heart,  will  be  guilty  of  such  behavior.  I  do 
not  know  positively  that  I  can  assist  you,  but  I  think  it  possible 

14 


314  MAC  ARIA  ;   OB, 

I  can  obtain  a  situation  for  your  father  as  carpenter  on  a  plan- 
tation in  the  country,  if  he  will  promise  to  abstain  from  drinking. 
I  have  heard  that  he  was  a  very  good  mechanic,  and  in  the  coun- 
try he  would  not  meet  with  such  constant  temptation.  Do  you 
suppose  that  he  will  be  wilUug  to  leave  town  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  ma'm  !  I  think  so  ;  he  is  generally  very  repentant 
when  he  gets  sober.  If  you  please,  Miss  Irene,  I  shoiild  be  so 
glad  if  you  would  talk  to  him,  and  persuade  him  to  take  the 
pledge  before  he  starts.  I  believe  he  would  join  the  Temperance 
society  if  you  asked  him  to  do  it.  Oh  !  then  I  should  have  some 
heart  to  work." 

"  You  and  your  mother  must  try  to  influence  him,  and  in  a  few 
days  I  will  talk  to  him.  In  the  meantime  I  will  see  about  the 
situation,  which  is  a  very  desirable  one.  I  am  very  sorry,  Philip, 
that  this  trouble  has  occurred  again  ;  I  know  that  it  is  very 
painful,  but  you  must  endeavor  to  be  patient  and  hopeful,  and  to 
bear  up  bravely.     Brighter  days  will  soon  come,  I  trust." 

He  took  his  cap  from  the  carpet,  rose,  and  looked  at  her  with 
swimming  eyes. 

"  Oh ,  Miss  Irene  I  I  wish  I  could  tell  you  all  I  feel.  I  thank 
you  more  than  I  can  ever  express,  and  so  does  mother." 

"  You  have  finished  your  book,  I  see  ;  don't  you  want  another  ? 
Nellie  will  show  yoij  the  library,  and  on  the  lower  book-shelf,  on 
the  right-hand  side  of  the  door,  you  wi\l  find  a  large  volume  in 
leather  binding — '  Plutarch.'  Take  it  with  you,  and  read  it 
carefully,  Good-by.  I  shall  come  down  to  the  Row  to-morrow 
or  next  day." 

As  she  heard  his  halting  step  descend  the  stairs  she  leaned 
back  wearily  in  her  chair,  and,  closing  her  eyes,  these  words  crept 
almost  audibly  over  her  pale  lips  : 

*' But  go  to  !  thy  love 

Shall  chant  itself,  its  own  beatitudes, 
After  its  own  life-working.    A  child's  kiss 
Set  on  the  sighing  lips,  shall  make  thee  glad ; 
A  poor  man  served  by  thee,  shall  make  thee  rich ; 
A  sick  man  helped  by  thee,  shall  make  thee  strong." 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIUCE.  315 


CHAPTER    XXVI.. 

"  Well,  Irene,  what  is  your  decision  about  the  party  at  Mr^. 
Churchill's  to-night  ?" 

"  I  will  go  with  you,  father,  if  it  is  a  matter  of  so  much  interest 
to  you  ;  though,  as  I  told  you  yesterday,  I  should  prefer  declin- 
ing the  invitation  as  far  as  I  am  concerned." 

"  It  is  full  time  for  you  to  go  into  society  again.  You  have 
moped  at  home  long  enough." 

"  '  Moped'  is  scarcely  the  right  word,  fathei;." 
"  It  matters  little  what  you  call  it,  the  fact  is  the  same.  You 
have  shut  yourself  in  till  you  have  grown  to  look  like  a  totally 
different  woman.  Indeed,  Irene,  I  won't  permit  it  any  longer  : 
you  must  come  out  into  the  world  once  more.  I  am  sick  of  your 
black  looks  ;  let  me  see  you  in  colors  to-night." 
"  Will  not  pure  white  content  you,  father  ?" 
"  Xo  ;  I  am  tired  of  it  ;  wear  something  bright." 
Mr.  Huntingdon  smoked  his  after- breakfast  cigar  half-recliued 
on  the  upper  step,  and  Irene  walked  up  and  down  the  wide  col- 
onade,  enjoying  the  cool,  dewy,  fragrant  June  day,  whose  suu  was 
rapidly  mounting  in  heaven.  The  air  was  of  that  peculiar  still- 
ness found  only  in  southern  summer  mornings,  but  now  and  then 
its  holy  calm  was  rippled  by  the  contented  ri^iging  whistle  of 
a  partridge  far  down  among  the  grassy  orchard-depths,  and  by 
the  peaceful  chime  of  doves  cooing  soft  and  low,  one  to  another, 
in  the  thickest  shadows  of  the  dripping  grove.  True  summer 
sounds — sure  concomitants  of  June.  Frail,  foam-like  cloud-navies 
in  line  of-battle,  as  if  piloted  by  dubious,  treacherous  winds,  sailed 
lazly  across  the  sea  of  intense  blue,  staring  down  covetously  at 
a  ripening  field  of  flashing  wheat,  which  bowed  and  waved  ia 
a  long  billowy  sweep  and  swell  as  the  mild  June  breeze  stole 
over  it  ;  and  on  a  neighboring  hill-side,  where  sickles  had  been 
busy  a  few  days  before,  the  royal  yellow  shocks  stood  thick  and 
tall  m  crowded  ranks,  like  golden  gods  of  Plenty. 


316  MACAHIA  ;    OE, 

Ab  !  rare  June  day,  impearled  and  purpled,  freshly  growing 
from  the  throbbing  hands  of  Deity,  serenely  regal  on  her  south- 
ern throne  as  Sheba's  brown  queen. 

"  Irene,  sit  here  on  the  step,  where  I  can  see  you  without 
twisting  my  head  off  my  shoulders.  Now,  then — what  is  the 
matter  with  you  ?" 

"  Nothing  unusual,  father." 

"  Don't  evade  me.  Why  can't  you  look  and  act  like  other 
girls  of  your  age  ?" 

"  Probably  because  I  feel  differently.  But  to  what  do  you 
allude  ?     In  what  respect  have  I  displeased  you  ?" 

"  Oh  !  in  a  thousand.  You  never  would  look  at  things  in 
their  proper  light.  AVhy  did  you  treat  William  Bainbridge  so 
coldly  yesterday  evening  ?  You  know  very  well  that  he  came 
here  expressly  to  see  you." 

"  And  for  that  reason,  sir,  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  receive  the  visit 
coolly." 

"  You  disappointed  all  my  plans  for  you  once  ;  but  let  me  tell 
you,  if  you  are  not  a  down-right  simpleton,  you  will  accept  the 
offer  William  Bainbridge  came  here  to  make.  You  are  aware 
of  the  warm  friendship  which  has  always  existed  between  the 
governor  and  myself,  and  his  son  is  considered  the  finest  match 
in  the  state.  If  you  live  a  thousand  years  you  will  never  have  a 
better  offer,  or  another  as  good  ;  and  I  do  hope,  my  daughter, 
that  you  will  not  be  insane  enough  to  reject  him." 

"  Father^  why  are  you  so  anxious  to  get  rid  of  your  only 
child  ?" 

"  I  am  not  :  but  you  must  marry  some  time,  and  I  know  very 
well  such  an  opportunity  as  this  will  not  recur." 

"  Don't  you  think,  sir,  that  you  and  I  could  live  always  hap- 
pily here  without  planting  a  stranger  at  our  fireside  ?  Father, 
let  us.  understand  each  other  fully.  I  speak  deliberately  and 
solemnly — I  shall  never  marry." 

Mr.  Huntingdon  started  up  from  his  indolent  posture  and  sur- 
veyed his  daughter  keenly. 

Her  spotless  muslin  morning-dress  swept  down  the  marble 
steps,  its  wide  sleeves  falling  away  from  the  rounded,  dazzling 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  317 

arms,  and  a  black  cord  and  tassel  girding  the  waist.  The  gera- 
nium leaves  fastened  at  her  throat  were  unstirred  as  the  silver- 
dusted  lilies  sleeping  lotos-like,  on  some  lonely  tarn  ;  and  the 
dewy  Lamarque  roses  twined  in  her  coiled  hair,  glittered  and 
kindled  into  fiiint  opaline  flushes  as  the  sunshine  quivered  into 
their  creamy  hearts.  One  hand  held  a  steel  ring,  to  which  half- 
a-dozen  keys  were  attached — the  other  toyed  unconsciously  with 
the  heavy  tassel,  and  the  hushed  face,  with  its  deep,  holy  eyes, 
was  lifted  to  meet  her  father's. 

"  Nonsense,  Irene  I  I  have  heard  fifty  women  say  that  same 
thing,  and  have  danced  at  their  weddings  six  months  later." 

**  I  do  not  doubt  it.  But,  father,  no  one  will  ever  dance  at 
mine." 

"  And,  pray,  why  have  n't  you  as  good  a  right  to  marry  and 
be  happy  as  other  women  ?" 

"The  abstract  right,  and  the  will  to  use  it,  are  different, 
fatlier  ;  and,  as  regards  happiness,  I  love  my  own  beautiful  home 
too  well  to  desire  to  change  it  for  any  other.  Let  me  be  quiet 
here — I  ask  no  more." 

"  But,  Irene,  I  can't  be  expected  to  live  always,  even  were  my 
society  suflBcient  for  you,  which  is  not  true." 

"  Death  yields  allegiance  to  no  decree  of  man.  I  may  find 
Hugh  in  another  world  before  you  are  called  to  quit  this." 

Her  father  shuddered,  and  smoked  silently  for  several  seconds; 
then  the  crash  of  wheels  on  the  shelled  avenue  startled  both. 

"  Here  comes  Bainbridge,  now.  I  promised  him  that  you 
would  play  a  game  of  billiards  with  him  this  morning.  For 
heaven's  sake,  Irene  !  be  reasonable  for  once  in  your  life  ;  let  me 
hear  no  more  such  stuff  as  you  have  been  talking,  but  treat  the 
man  civilly,  and  give  him  what  he  will  ask." 

The  handsome  suitor  came  up  the  steps  rather  dubiously,  as  if 
fearful  of  his  welcome  ;  and  the  heiress  rose  composedly  and  re- 
ceived him  with  graceful,  polished,  imperturbable  reserve.  A 
few  months  before,  in  compliance  with  her  father's  earnest  re- 
quest, she  had  accompanied  him  to  the  capital  of  the  state,  and 
during  this  brief  visit  met  and  completely  fascinated  Mr.  Bain- 
bi  idge,  whose  attentions  were  susceptible  of  but  one  interpreta- 


318  MACAKIA  ;   OR, 

tion.  He  was  a  year  her  senior — a  chivalric,  agreeable,  gay 
young  man,  who  had  grown  up  without  selecting  a  profession, 
knowing  that  his  ample  fortune  would  more  than  suffice  for  his 
maintenance.  He  was  the  only  son  of  the  governor  ;  his  charac- 
ter was  unimpeachable,  his  nature  magnanimous,  and  many  of 
his  impulses  were  truly  noble — but  his  intellect  was  far  inferior 
to  hers.  He  could  no  more  comprehend  her  than  some  long-in- 
urned  Assyrian  scroll,  for  which  the  cipher-key  is  wanting  ;  and 
in  the  midst  of  his  devotion  she  was  conscious  of  no  feeling  save 
that  of  utter  indifference,  son;etimes  waxing  into  impatience  at 
his  frequent  visits.  She  had  studiously  avoided  encouraging  his 
attentions,  but  he  either  could  not  or  would  not  interpret  her  cold 
reticence. 

The  morning  was  spent  over  the  billiard-table,  and  at  last, 
foiled  by  her  skilful  guiding  of  the  fragmentary  conversation, 
Mr.  Bainbri(fge  having  been  refused  the  honor  of  escorting  her 
to  the  party,  took  his  leave,  expressing  the  hope  that  in  a  few 
hours  he  should  see  her  asrain. 

"  Well  ?"  said  Mr.  Huntingdon,  seating  himself  at  the  lunch- 
eon-table. 

"  Well,  father  ;  we  played  till  I  was  heartily  tired." 

"  But  the  result  of  the  visit,  Irene  ?" 

"  The  result  was  that  I  beat  him  three  games  out  of  five. 
John,  where  is  the  claret  ?  You  have  forgotten  it  ;  here  are  the 
keys." 

"  Pshaw  I  I  mean,  did  Bainbridge  come  to  the  point  ?" 
"  I  took  most  of  the  points  from  him." 
"  Confound  your  quibbling  !     Did  you  accept  him  ?" 
"  I  am  happy  to  be  able  to  tell  you,  sir,  that  he  did  not  aflford 
me  an  opportunity-." 

"  Then  I  will  be  sworn  it  was  your  fault,  not  his." 
A  short  silence  ensued  :  Irene  sat,  seemingly  abstracted,  dip- 
ping her  slender  hand  in  a  ruby-colored  Bohemian  fino-e^'-bowl. 
Presently  John  returned  ;  she  took  the  bottle  from  him,  and, 
filling  her  father's  glass,  said,  earnestly  : 

"  Father,  I  have  a  favor  to  ask  at  your  hands  ;  are  you  in  a 
mood  for  concessions  ?" 


ALTARS   OF    SACRTFICK.  319 

"  '  That  depends — ,'  as  Guy  Darrell  says.  What  is  it  ?  Do 
you  want  a  new  collar  for  Paragon,  or  a  bran  new  pigeon-box 
twice  the  size  of  the  old  one  ?  Something  unreasonable,  I  will 
warrant.  You  never  want  what  you  ought  to  have.  Speak  out, 
my  bleached  gentile  Esther  I" 

"  I  do  want  another  pigeon-box  badly,  but  that  is  not  to  be 
asked  for  to-day.  Father,  will  you  give  me  that  large  beautiful 
vacant  lot,  with  the  old  willow  tree,  on  the  corner  of  Pine  street 
and  Huntingdon  avenue,  opposite  the  court-house  ?" 

"  Upon  my  word  1  I  must  say  you  are  very  modest  in  your 
request  !     What  the  deuce  do  you  want  with  it  ?" 

"  I  know  that  I  am  asking  a  good  deal,  sir  ;  but  I  want  it  as 
a  site  for  an  orphan  asylum.     Will  you  give  it  to  me  ?" 

"  No  !  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  do  I  Are  you  going  entirely  de- 
ranged !  What  business  have  you  with  asylums,  I  should  like 
to  know  ?  Put  all  of  that  ridiculous  stuflf  out  of  your  head. 
Here  is  something  for  which  I  sent  to  Europe.  Eric  selected  it 
in  Paris,  and  it  arrived  yesterday.     Wear  it  to-night." 

He  drew  a  velvet  case  from  his  pocket  'and  laid  it  before  her. 
Touching  the  spring,  the  lid  flew  open,  and  on  the  blue  satin 
lining  lay  the  blazing  coils  of  a  magnificent  diamond  necklace 
and  bracelets. 

"  How  beautiful  I  how  splendidly  beautiful  !" 

She  bent  over  the  flashing  mass  in  silent  admiration  for 
some  time,  examining  the  delicate  setting,  then  looked  up  at  her 
father. 

"  What  did  they  cost  ?" 

"  Why  do  you  want  to  know  that  ?" 

"  I  am  pardonably  curious  on  the  subject." 

"  Well,  then,  I  was  silly  enough  to  give  seven  thousand  dol- 
lars for  them." 

"  And  what  was  the  value  of  that  lot  I  asked  for  ?" 

"  Five  thousand  dollars." 

"  Father,  these  diamonds  are  the  finest  I  ever  saw.  They 
are  superbly  beautiful  ;  a  queen  might  be  proud  of  them,  and  I 
thank  you  most  earnestly  for  such  a  gorgeous  present  ;  but  if  you 


320  MACARIA  ;   OR, 

will  not  be  offended,  I  will  be  candid  with  you — I  would  a  thou- 
sand times  rather  have  the  lot  than  the  jewels." 

The  expression  of  blank  astonishment  with  which  these  words 
were  received  would  have  been  ludicrous  but  for  the  ominous 
thickenino:  of  his  brows. 

"  Father,  do  not  feel  hurt  with  me,  or  attribute  my  conduct 
io  any  want  of  gratitude  for  your  indulgent  kindness.  If  I  love 
t  le  smiles  of  happy  children  more  than  the  radiance  of  these 
costly  gems,  and  would  rather  wear  in  my  heart  the  contented 
faces  of  well-cared-for  orphans  than  on  my  neck  these  glittering 
diamonds,  may  I  not  at  least  utter  my  preference  without  offend- 
ing you  ?  Wlien  I  think  of  the  better  use  to  which  this  money 
might  be  applied,  the  incalculable  good  it  would  effect,  I  shrink 
from  hoarding  it  up  on  my  person  to  dazzle  the  eyes  of  my  associ- 
ates, to  incite  some  to  imitate  the  lavish  expenditure,  and  to  awaken 
in  others  envious  discontent  at  their  inability  to  cover  themselves 
with  similar  splendor.  The  result  of  such  an  example  on  our  socie- 
ty would  be  like  dropping  a  pebble  into  some  crystal  lakelet  sleep- 
ing in  evening  sunshine  ;  the  wavering  ring  would  widen  till  the 
entire  glassy  surface  was  shivered  into  spinning  circles  and  dash- 
ed on  the  rocky  shore  beyond.  Father,  forgive  me,  if  I  have 
Baid  anything  disagreeable  to  you.  I  shall  be  grieved  indeed  if, 
on  occasion  of  your  too  generous  indulgence,  any  dissension  arise 
between  us.     Tell  me  that  you  are  not  angry  with  me." 

She  laid  her  fingers  on  his  arm,  but  he  shook  off  the  touch^ 
and,  scowling,  sullenly,  snatched  the  velvet  case  from  her  hand 
and  stamped  out  of  the  room — slamming  the  door  so  violently 
that  the  glasses  on  the  table  rang  out  a  tinkling  chime,  and  the 
red  wine  in  the  bottle  danced  a  saraband. 

He  went  to  town,  and  she  met  him  no  more  till  she  was  attired 
for  the  party.  Standing  before  the  mirror  in  her  own  room  she 
arranged  the  flowers  in  her  hair,  and,  when  the  leaves  were  dis- 
posed to  suit  her  fastidious  taste,  she  took  up  a  pearl  set  which 
he  had  given  her  years  before,  intending  to  wear  it.  But  just 
then  raising  her  eyes,  she  saw  her  father's  image  reflected  in  the 
glass.  Without  turning  she  put  up  her  arms,  and  laying  her 
head  back  on  his  shoulder  said,  eagerly  : 


ALTARS    OP   SACRIFICE.  321 

"  My  dear,  dear  father,  do^et  us  be  reconciled." 

Clouds  and  moodiness  melted  from  his  handsome  features  as 
he  bent  over  lier  an  instant,  kissing  her  fondly  ;  then  his  hands 
passed  swiftly  over  her  neck,  an  icy  shower  fell  upon  it  and  she 
was  clothed  with  light. 

"  My  beautiful  child,  wear  your  diamonds  as  a  seal  of  peace. 
I  can't  let  you  have  the  Pine  street  lot — I  want  it  for  a  different 
purpose  ;  but  I  will  give  you  three  acres  on  the  edge  of  town, 
near  the  depot,  for  your  asylum  whim.  It  is  a  better  location 
every  way  for  your  project." 

"  Thank  you,  father.  Oh  I  thank  you  more  than  words  can 
express." 

She  turned  her  lips  to  one  of  the  hands  still  lingering  on  her 
shoulder. 

"  Irene,  look  at  yourself.  Diana  of  Ephesus  I  what  a  blaze 
of  glory  I" 

"  Father,  it  would  not  require  much  stretch  of  imagination  to 
believe  that,  by  some  descendental  raetemsychosis,  I  had  become 
an  exhumed  member  of  the  sacred  gnomides,  torn  ruthlessly  from 
my  sisterhood  in  Cerro  do  Frio,  or  the  cold,  dreary  caverns  of 
the  Agathyrsi." 

"  The  metamorphosis  is  not  sufficiently  complete  without  your 
bracelets.  Put  them  on  and  come  down  ;  the  carriage  is  ready. 
Where  is  your  bouquet-holder  ?  Give  it  to  me  ;  I  will  fasteu 
the  flowers  in,  while  you  draw  on  your  gloves." 

Two  days  before  the  marriage  of  Charles  Harris  and  Maria 
Henderson  had  been  celebrated  with  considerable  pomp,  and  the 
party  to-night  was  given  in  honor  of  the  event  by  Mrs.  Churchill, 
a  widowed  sister  of  Judge  Harris.  She  had  spent  several  years 
in  Paris  superintending  the  education  of  a  daughter,  whom  she 
had  recently  brought  home  to  reside  near  her  uncle,  and  dazzle 
all  W with  her  accomplishments. 

At  ten  o'clock  there  stood  beneath  the  gas-lights  in  her  elegant 
parlor  a  human  fleshy  antithesis,  upon  which  all  eyes  were  rivet- 
ed— Salome  Churchill — a  dark  imperious  beauty,  of  the  Cleopatra 
type,  with  very  full  crimson  lips,  passionate,  or  pouting  as  occa- 
sion demanded  ;  brilliant  black  eyes  that,  like  August  days, 


322  MACAEIA  ;    OE, 

burned  dewless  and  unclouded,  a  steady  blaze  ;  tliick  shining 
black  hair  elaborately  curled,  and  a  rich  tropical  complexion, 
clear  and  glowing  as  the  warm  blood  that  pulsed  through  her 
rounded  graceful  form.  She  wore  a  fleecy  fabric,  fopaz-colored, 
with  black  lace  trimmings  ;  yellow  roses  gemmed  her  hair,  and 
topaz  and  ruby  ornaments  clasped  her  throat  and  arms.  An 
Eastern  queen  she  looked,  exacting  universal  homage,  and  full 
of  fiery  jealousy  whenever  her  eyes  fell  upon  one  who  stood  just 
ppposite.  A  statuesque  face,  pure  and  calm  as  any  ever  cut 
from  Pentelic  quarry,  and  cold  as  its  dews — the  delicately- 
carved  features  borrowing  no  color  from  the  glare  around  her, 
the  polished  shoulders  and  perfect  arms  gleaming  frigidly  in  the 
rainbow  light  of  her  diamonds,  and  the  bronze  hair  caught  up  by  a 
pearl  comb,  with  here  and  there  a  cluster  of  clematis  bells  droop- 
ing toward  her  neck.  Irene's  dress  was  an  airy  blue  tulle^  flounced 
to  the  waist,  and  without  trimming,  save  the  violet  and  clematis 
clusters.  Never  had  her  rare  beauty  been  more  resplendent — 
more  dazzliiigly  chilly  ;  it  seemed  the  glitter  of  an  arctic  iceberg 
lit  by  some  low  midnight  sun,  and  turn  whither  she  would  fascin- 
ated groups  followed  her  steps.  Salome's  reputation  as  a  brilliant 
helle  had  become  extended  since  Irene's  long  seclusion,  yet  to- 
night, on  the  re-appearance  of  the  latter,  it  was  apparent  to 
even  the  most  obtuse  that  she  had  resumed  her  sway — the 
matchless  cynosura  of  that  social  system.  Fully  conscious  of  the 
intense  admiration  she  excited,  she  moved  slowly  from  room  to 
room,  smiling  once  or  twice  when  she  met  her  father's  proud 
look  of  fond  triumph  -fixed  upon  her. 

Leaninc:  asrainst  the  window  to  rest,  while  Charles  Harris 
went  in  search  of  a  glass  of  water,  she  heard  her  name  pro- 
nounced by  some  one  on  the  gallery. 

•''  They  say  Irene  Huntingdon  is  positively  going  to  maiTy 
Bainbridge.  Splendid  match  on  both  sides.  Won't  she  shine 
at  the  Governor's  mansion  ?  I  wonder  if  she  really  grieved 
much  for  Seymour  ?  How  perfectly  lovely  she  is  ;  and  Hunt- 
ingdon is  so  proud  of  her.  By  the  way,  Neal,  have  you  heard 
tiie  last  gossip  V" 


ALTARS   OF    SACRIFICE.  823 

"About  whom  ?  I  Imve  been  away  a  month,  you  must  re- 
member, and  am  behind  the  times.     Do  tell  me." 

"  Well,  the  very  latest  report  is  that,  after  all,  Aubrey  never 
fancied  Grace  Harris,  as  tho  quidnuncs  asserted — never  address- 
ed her,  or  anybody  else— but  is  now  sure  enough  about  to  bear 
off  helle  Salome,  the  new  prize,  right  in  the  face  of  twenty  rivals. 
I  should  really  Hke  to  hear  of  something  which  that  man  could 
not  do,  if  he  set  himself  to  work  in  earnest.  I  wonder  whether 
it  ever  occurs  to  him  that  he  once  stood  behind  Jacob  Watson's 
counter  ?" 

"But  Aubrey  is  not  here  to-night.  Does  not  affect  parties,  I 
beheve  ?" 

"  Rarely  shows  himself  ;  but  you  mistake  ;  he  came  in  not 
twenty  minutes  ago,  and  you  should  have  seen  what  I  saw — the 
rare-ripe  red  deepen  on  Salome's  cheeks  when  he  spoke  to  her." 

Irene  moved  away  from  the  window,  and  soon  after  was  about 
to  accompany  Charlie  to  the  hall,  when  Mr.  Bainbridge  came  up 
and  claimed  her  hand  for  the  cotillion  forming  in  the  next  room. 
As  they  took  their  places  on  the  floor,  she  saw  that  Salome  and 
Russell  would  be  vis-Orvis.  With  an  effort  she  raised  her  eyes  to 
those  of  the  man  whom  she  had  seen  last  at  Hugh's  bier  ;  he 
drooped  his  head  very  slightly,  she  inclined  hers  ;  then  the  band 
smote  their  instruments,  viohu  and  piano,  and  the  crash  of  music 
filled  the  house. 

Irene  moved  mechanically  through  the  airy  mazes  of  the  dance, 
giving  apparent  attention  to  the  low-toned,  half-whispered  obser- 
vations of  her  devoted  partner,  but  straining  her  ear  to  catch  the 
mellow  voice  which  uttered  such  graceful,  fascinating  nothings  to 
Salome.  Several  times  in  the  course  of  the  cotillion  Russell's 
hand  clasped  hers,  but  even  then  he  avoided  looking  at  her,  and 
seemed  engrossed  in  conversation  with  his  gay  partner.  Once 
Irene  looked  up  steadily,  and  as  she  noted  the  expression  with 
which  he. regarded  his  companion  she  wondered  no  longer  at  the 
rumor  she  had  heard,  and  acknowledged  to  herself  that  they 
were,  indeed,  a  handsome  couple.  Dr.  Arnold,  whom  Mrs.  Church- 
ill had  coaxed  into  "  showing  himself,"  had  curiously  watched 
this  meeting,  and  observing  Russell's  marked  attentions,  puzzled 


324:  MACAEIA  ;    OR, 

over  the  question  :  "  Does  he  really  care  for  that  fire- fly,  or  is 
he  only  trying  to  make  Irene  jealous  ?"  He  looked  long  and 
earnestly  at  both,  then  sighed  heavily.  What  did  that  haughty, 
blue-robed  woman  know  oF  jealousy  ?  How  absurd  such  a  sug- 
gestion seemed  when  she  turned  her  smiling,  passionless  face  full 
upon  him.  The  dance  ended  ;  Irene  found  herself  seated  on  a 
sofa  at  the  window  of  the  deserted  library,  and  Russell  and  Sa- 
lome walked  slowly  up  and  down  the  veranda  in  front  of  it. 
Mr.  Bainbridge  had  manoeuvred  for  this  opportunity,  and,  seated 
beside  Irene,  he  eagerly  and  eloquently  pleaded  his  cause,  assur- 
ing her  of  a  devotion  which  should  know  no  diminution,  and  em- 
phasizing the  fact  that  he  had  possessed  himself  of  her  father's 
sanction. 

She  made  no  attempt  to  interrupt  him,  but  sat  erect  and  mo- 
tionless, with  one  hand  partially  shielding  her  face,  and  the  other 
pressed  hard  against  her  heart,  where  a  dull  continual  pain  was 
gnawing.  Every  few  minutes  Kussell  passed  the  window,  his 
noble  head  bent  down  to  the  beautiful  companion  on  his  arm. 
Irene  could  see  the  outline  of  his  features  distinctly,  and  her  soul 
sickened  as  she  watched  him  and  reasoned  concerning  the  future. 
He  would  probably  marry  somebody,  and  why  not  Salome  ?  She 
could  not  expect  him  to  remain  single  always,  and  he  could  never 
be  more  than  a  stranger  to  her.  After  his  marriage  what  a 
blank  her  life  would  be  ;  to  love  him  still  would  be  sinful.  She 
moved  her  finger  slightly  and  looked  fixedly  at  the  handsome  man 
beside  her,  entreating  her  to  give  him  the  privilege  of  making 
her  life  happy.  For  an  instant  she  wavered.  The  world  held 
nothing  for  her  but  dreariness  at  best  ;  she  was  weary  of  aliena- 
tion and  contention  ;  why  not  accede  to  her  father's  wishes,  and 
t]jQs  repair  the  grievous  disappointment  of  other  days  ?  William 
Bainbridge  loved  her,  and  perhaps  if  she  were  his  wife  the  sanc- 
tity of  her  vows  might  strengthen  her  in  tearing  another  image 
from  her  heart.  She  took  her  future  in  the  palm  of  her  hand, 
and  pondered.  At  this  moment  the  couple  on  the  veranda  paus- 
ed in  front  of  the  window,  to  allow  the  promenading  crowd  to 
pass,  and  Russell  looked  in,  with  a»brilliant  smile  on  his  counte- 
nance. It  seemed  to  mock  her  with  a  "  Marry  him  if  you  dare  I" 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  325 

The  two  passed  on  into  the  parlors,  and  closing  her  eyes  a  mo- 
ment, as  if  shutting  out  some  hideous  vision,  Irene  briefly,  but 
firmly  and  irrevocably,  declined  the  flattering  oITer  ;  and  rising, 
left  him  with  his  disappointment.  She  looked  about  for  Dr.  Ar- 
nold, but  he  had  disappeared  ;  her  father  was  deep  in  a  game  of 
euchre  ;  and  as  she  crossed  the  hall  she  was  surprised  to  see 
Philip  leaning  against  the  door-facing,  and  peering  curiously  into 
the  parlors. 

"  Philip,  what  are  you  doing  here  ?" 

"  Oh,  Miss  Irene  1  I  have  been  hunting  for  you  ever  so  long. 
Mrs.  Davis  is  dying,  and  Susan  sent  me  after  you.  I  went  to 
your  house  two  hours  ago,  and  they  said  you  were  here.  I  ran 
back  and  told  mother  you  could  not  come.  But  Mrs.  Davis 
worried  so,  they  sent  me  here.  She  says  she  wonH  die  in  peace 
unless  she  sees  you.  She  wrung  her  hands,  and  asked  me  if  you 
would  not  have  time  enough  to  go  to  parties  when  she  was  in 
her  grave  ?    Will  you  come,  ma'm  ?" 

"  Of  course.  Philip,  find  Andrew  and  the  carriage,  and  I 
will  meet  you  at  the  side  door  in  five  minutes." 

She  went  to  the  dressing-room,  asked  for  pencil  and  paper, 
and  wrote  a  few  lines,  which  she  directed  the  servant  to  hand 
immediately  to  her  father — found  her  shawl,  and  stole  down  to 
the  side  door.  She  saw  the  dim  outline  of  a  form  sitting  ou  the 
step,  in  the  shadow  of  clustering  vines,  and  asked  : 

"  Is  that  you,  Philip  ?     I  am  ready." 

The  figure  rose,  came  forward  into  the  light,  hat  in  hand,  and 
both  started  visibly. 

"  Pardon  me,  Mr.  Aubrey.  I  mistook  you  in  the  darkness  for 
another." 

Here  Philip  ran  up  the  steps. 

"  Miss  Irene,  Andrew  says  he  can't  get  to  the  side  gate  for 
the  carriages.     He  is  at  the  front  entrance." 

"  Can  I  assist  you.  Miss  Huntingdon  ?" 

"  I  thank  you  ;  no." 

"  May  I  ask  if  you  are  ill  ?" 

"  Not  in  the  least — but  I  am  suddenly  called  away." 

She  passed  him,  and  accompanied  Philip  to  the  carriage.     A 


326  macaria;  or, 

few  minutes  rapid  driving  brought  them  to-  the  Row,  and,  direct- 
ing Andrew  to  return  and  wait  for  her  father,  Irene  entered  the 
low  small  chamber  where  a  human  soul  was  pluming  itself  for  its 
final  flight  home.  The  dying  woman  knew  her  even  then  in  the 
fierce  throes  of  dissolution,  and  the  sunken  eyes  beamed  as  she 
bent  over  the  pillow. 

*'  God  bless  you  1  I  knew  you  would  come.  My  children — 
what  will  become  of  them  ?  Will  you  take  care  of  them  ?  Tell 
me  quick." 

"  Put  your  mind  at  rest,  Mrs.  Davis.  I  will  see  that  your 
children  are  well  cared  for  in  every  respect." 

"  Promise  me  I"  gasped  the  poor  sufferer,  clutching  the  jewelled 
arm. 

"  I  do  promise  you  most  solemnly  that  I  will  watch  over  them 
constantly.  They  shall  never  want  so  long  as  I  live.  Will  you 
not  believe  me,  and  calm  yourself  ?" 

A  ghastly  smile  trembled  over  the  distorted  features,  and  she 
bowed  her  head  in  assent.  Irene  poured  some  cordial  into  a 
glass  and  put  it  to  her  lips,  but  she  refused  the  draught,  and, 
joining  her  emaciated  hands,  muttered,  half-inaudibly  : 

"  Pray  for  me  once  more.  Oh  !  pray  for  me,  my  best  friend." 
Kneeling  on  the  bare  floor  in  the  midst  of  a  sobbing  group, 
Irene  prayed  long  and  earnestly,  and  gradually,  as  her  sweet 
voice  rolled  through  the  room,  a  peaceful  look  settled  on  the  dy- 
ing mother's  face.  At  last  the  petition  ended  and  silence  reign- 
ed, broken  only  by  the  smothered  sobs  of  Susan  and  Httle  John- 
nie, who  clung  to  Irene's  hand  and  buried  his  face  in  her  dress 
as  she  still  knelt  at  the  bedside. 

"  Mrs.  Davis,  don't  you  feel  that  you  will  soon  be  at  rest  with 
God  ?" 

"  Yes — I  am  going  home  happy — ^happy." 
She  closed  her  eyes  and  whispered  : 
"  Sing  my — hyipn — once — more." 

Making  a  great  effort  to  crush  her  own  feelings,  Irene  sang 
the  simple  but  touching  words  of  "Home  Again,"  and  though 
her  voice  faltered  now  and  then,  she  sang  it  through — knowing, 


ALTAKS    OF    SACRIFICE.  327 

from  the  expression  of  the  sufferer's  face,  that  the  spirit  was 
passing  to  its  endless  re  st. 

It  was  a  strange  scene.  The  poverty  of  the  room— the  ema- 
ciated form,  with  sharp,  set  features— the  magnificently  beauti- 
ful womau  kneeling  there  in  her  costly  festal  robes,  with  the 
light  of  the  tallow  candle  flickering  over  her  diamonds,  setting 
her  neck  and  arms  on  fire— and  the  weeping  girl  and  wailing 
curly-haired  boy,  whose  tearful  face  was  hidden  in  the  full  flounces 
of  blue  tulle.  ''  Passing  strange,"  thought  the  proud  man  of 
the  world,  who  had  followed  her  from  the  scenes  of  festivity,  and 
now  stood  in  the  door-way  listening,  with  hushed  breath,  to  the 
prayer  she  had  put  up,  to.  the  words  of  the  hymn  she  had  sung 
so  sorrowfully,  and  gazing  in  silent  adoration  upon  the  face  and 
form  of  the  kneeling  woman.  Now  one  of  the  beautiful  arms 
stole  around  the  trembling  child  who  clung  to  her  so  tenaciously, 
and  she  gently  lifted  the  chestnut  curls  from  his  flushed  face. 

"  Don't  sob  so,  Johnnie.  Your  mother  is  in  heaven,  where 
there  is  no  sorrow,  or  sickness,  or  trouble.  She  will  be  very 
happy  there  ;  and  if  you  are  as  good  and  patient  as  she  was, 
you  will  meet  her  in  heaven  when  God  calls  you  to  die." 
"  Oh  !  is  she  dead  ?  Miss  Irene,  is  my  mother  dead  ?" 
"  My  dear  little  boy,  she  has  gone  to  our  Father  in  heaven, 
who  will  make  her  happier  than  she  could  possibly  be  in  this  world." 
A  passionate  burst  of  sorrow  followed  the  discovery  of  the 
melancholy  truth,  and  rising  from  the  floor  Irene  seated  herself 
on  a  chair,  taking  the  child  on  her  lap,  and  soothing  his  violent 
grief.  Too  young  to  realize  his  loss,  he  was  easily  comforted, 
and  after  a  time  grew  quiet.  She  directed  Susan  to  take  him 
into  the  next  room  and  put  him  on  his  pallet ;  and  when  she  had 
exchanged  a  few  words  with  Philip's  mother  about  the  disposi- 
tion of  the  rigid  sleeper,  she  turned  to  quit  the  apartment,  and 
saw  Russell  standing  on  the  threshold.  Had  the  dead  mother 
suddenly  stepped  before  her  she  would  scarcely  have  been  more 
astonished  and  startled. 

He  extended  one  hand,  and  hastily  taking  hers,  drew  her  to 
the  door  of  the  narrow,  dark  hall,  where  the  newly-risen  moon 
Ehone  in. 


328  MACARIA  ;    OR, 

"  Come  out  of  this  charnel-house  into  the  pure  air  once  more. 
Do  not  shrink  back — trust  yourself  with  me  this  once,  at  least." 
The  brick  walls  of  the  factory  rose  a  hundred  yards  off  in  full 
view  of  the  Row,  and  leading  her  along  the  river  bank  he  placed 
her  on  one  of  the  massive  stone  steps  of  the  building. 

"  What  brought  you  here  to-night,  Mr.  Aubrey  ?" 

"  An  unpardonable  curiosity  concerning  your  sudden  depart- 
ure— an  unconquerable  desire  to  speak  to  you  once  more. 

"  You  witnessed  a  melancholy  scene." 

"  Yes — melancholy  indeed  ;  but  not  half  so  sad  as  one  which 
memory  held  before  me  while  I  watched  yonder  pale  corpse  grow 
rigid.  The  veil  of  .the  past  was  rent^  and  I  stood  again  over  my 
own  dead  mother.  For  me  there  is  no  Lethe.  In  memoriain 
creeps  in  sombre  characters  over  all  that  I  look  upon." 

A  waning  June  moon,  in  its  last  quarter,  struggled  feebly  up 
the  eastern  sky,  "  hounded  by  a  few  dim  stars,"  and  the  spectral 
light  fell  like  a  dying  smile  upon  the  silent  scene — the  broad 
swift  river  flashing  below,  champing  with  foamy  lips  on  the  rocky 
bit  that  barred  its  current,  and  breaking  into  shimmering  silver 
cataracts  as  it  leaped  triumphantly  over  a  gray  ledge  of  granite 
and  thundered  down  into  the  basin  beyond,  churning  itself  into 
diamond  spray,  that  wreathed  and  fluttered  in  gleaming  threads 
like  a  bridal  veil  streaming  on  some  mild  May  breeze.  The 
shining  shafts  of  water  gave  back  the  ghastly  light  as  huge 
mirrors  might,  and  from  the  dark  depths  of  foliage  on  the  op- 
posite bank  and  the  lofty  aisles  of  pine-clad  hills  stretching  far 
w^estward  and  overtopping  all,  the  deep  solemn  monotone  of  the 
everlasting  fall  echoed  and  re-echoed,  chanting  to  the  quiet  night 
a  sacred  "  in  sodo  quies^ 

Standing  with  uncovered  head  in  the  weird  light,  Kussell's 
piercing  eyes  were  fixed  on  his  companion. 

"  You  do  not  know  why  I  came  here,  Miss  Huntingdon  ?" 

"  You  told  me  why." 

"  Xo.  But  you  shall  know.  I  came  here  overmastered  by 
some  '  Imp  of  the  Perverse,'  led  by  an  irresistible  desire  to  see  you 
alone,  to  look  at  you,  to  tell  you  what  I  have  almost  sworn  should 
never  pass  my  lips — what  you  may  consider  unmanly  weakness — • 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  329 

nay,  insanity,  on  my  part.  We  are  face  to  face  at  last,  man  and 
woman,  with  the  golden  bars  of  conventionality  and  wordly  dis- 
tinction snapped  asunder.  I  am  no  longer  the  man  whom  society 
would  ftiin  flatter,  in  atonement  for  past  injustice  ;  and  I  choose 
to  forget,  for  the  time,  that  you  are  the  daughter  of  my  bitterest 
deadlr  foe — my  persistent  persecutor.  I  remember  nothing  now 
but  the  crowned  days  of  our  childhood,  the  rosy  dawn  of  my 
manhood,  where  your  golden  head  shone  my  Morning  Star.  I 
hurl  away  all  barriers,  and  remember  only  the  one  dream  of  my 
life — my  deathless,  unwavering  love  for  you.  Oh,  Irene  !  Irene  ! 
why  have  you  locked  that  rigid  cold  face  of  yours  against 
me  ?  In  the  hallowed  days  of  old  you  nestled  your  dear  hands  into 
mine,  and  pressed  your  curls  against  my  cheek,  and  gave  me 
comfort  in  your  pure,  warm,  girlish  affection  ;  how  canyon  snatch 
your  frozen  fingers  from  mine  now,  as  though  my  touch  were  con- 
tamination ?  Be  yourself  once  more — give  me  one  drop  from  the 
old  over-flowing  fountain.  I  am  a  lonely  man  ;  and  my  proud 
bitter  heart  hungers  for  one  of  your  gentle  words,  one  of  your 
sweet,  priceless  smiles.     Irene,  look  at  me  !     Give  it  to  me  ?" 

He  sat  down  on  the  step  at  her  feet,  and  raised  his  dark  mag- 
netic face,  glowing  with  the  love  which  had  so  long  burned  un- 
dimmed,  his  lofty  full  forehead  wearing  a  strange  flush. 

She  dared  not  meet  his  eye,  and  drooped  her  head  on  her  palms, 
shrinking  from  the  scorching  furnace  of  trial,  whose  red  jaws 
yawned  to  receive  her.  He  waited  a  moment,  and  his  low  mel- 
low voice  rose  to  a  stormy  key. 

"  Irine,  you  are  kind  and  merciful  to  the  poor  wretches  in 
the  Row.  Poverty — nay,  crime,  does  not  frighten  away  your 
compassion  for  them  ?  why  are  you  hard  and  cruelly  haughty 
only  to  me  I" 

"  You  do  not  need  my  sympathy,  Mr.  Aubrey,  and  congratu- 
lations on  your  great  success  would  not  come  gracefully  from  my 
lips.  Most  unfortunate  obstacles  long  since  rendered  all  inter, 
course  between  us  impossible,  still  my  feeling  for  you  has  under- 
gone no  change.     I  am,  I  assure  you,  still  your  friend." 

It  cost  her  a  powerful  effort  to  utter  these  words,  and  her  voice 
took  a  metallic  tone  utterly  foreign  to  it.     Her  heart  writhed 


830  MACARIA  ;   OE, 

bled  and  moaned  in  the  gripe  of  her  steely  purpose,  but  she  en- 
dured all  calmly — relaxing  not  one  jot  of  her  bitter  resolution. 

"  My  friend  ?  Mockery  !  God  defend  me  from  such  hence- 
forth. Irene,  I  looked  at  you  to-night  in  all  your  wonderful,  in- 
comparable loveliness,  as  you  hung  upon  the  arm  of  your  acknowl- 
edged lover,  and  the  possibility  of  your  becoming  that  man's  wife 
absolutely  maddened  me.  I  felt  that  I  could  never  endure  that 
horrible  reality,  and  resolved  to  know  the  truth.  Other  lips 
deceive,  but  yours  never  can.  Tell  me,  have  you  promised  your 
hand  to  Bainbridge  ?     Will  you  ever  give  it  to  him  ? 

"  Such  questions,  Mr.  Aubrey,  you  have  no  right  to  propound." 
"  Right  I  does  my  worshiping  love  give  me  no  right  to  re- 
lieve myself  from  torture,  if  possible  ?  Oh  !  relentless,  beautiful 
idol,  that  you  are  !  I  have  cheated  myself  with  a  heavenly  dream — 
have  hugged  to  my  soul  the  hope  that,  after  all,  I  was  more  to 
you  than  you  designed  to  show — that  far  down  in  your  proud 
heart -you,  too,  cherished  memories  of  other  days.  Irene, 'you 
loved  me  once — nay,  don't  deny  it  !  You  need  not  blush  for  the 
early  folly,  which,  it  seems,  you  have  interred  so  deeply  ;  and 
though  you  scorn  to  meet  me  even  as  an  equal,  I  know,  I  feel, 
that  I  am  worthy  of  your  love — that  I  comprehend  your  strange 
nature  as  no  one  else  ever  will — that,  had  such  a  privilege  been 
accorded  me,  I  could  have  kindled  your  heart,  and  made  you 
supremely  happy.  Cursed  barriers  have  divided  us  always  ;  fate 
denied  me  my  right.  I  have  suffered  many  things  ;  but  does  it 
not  argue,  at  least,  in  favor  of  my  love,  that  it  has  survived  all 
the  trials  to  which  your  father's  hate  has  subjected  me  ?  To- 
night I  could  forgive  him  all  !  all  !  if  I  knew  that  he  had  not  so 
successfully  hardened,  closed  your  heart  against  me.  My  soul  is 
full  of  bitterness  which  would  move  you,  if  one  trait  of  your  girlish 
nature  remained.  But  you  are  not  my  Irene  1  The  world's 
queen,  the  dazzling  idol  of  the  -ball-room,  is  not  my  blue-eyed, 
angelic  Irene  of  old  I  I  will  intrude  upon  you  no  longer.  Try  at 
least  not  to  despise  me  for  my  folly  ;  I  will  crush  it  ;  and  if  you 
deign  to  remember  me  at  all  in  future,  think  of  a  man  who  laughs  at 
his  own  idiotcy,  and  strives  to  forget  that  he  ever  believed  there 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  331 

lived  one  woman  who  would  be  true  to  her  own  heart,  even 
though  the  heavens  fell  and  the  world  passed  away  1" 

He  rose  partially,  but  her  hand  fell  quickly  upon  his  shoulder, 
and  the  bowed  face  lifted  itself,  stainless  as  starry  jasmines  bathed 
in  equatorial  dews. 

"  Mr.  Aubrey,  you  are  too  severe  upon  yourself,  and  very  un- 
just to  me.  The  circumstances  which  conspired  to  alienate  us  were 
far  beyond  my  control  ;  I  regret  them  as  sincerely  as  you  pos- 
sibly can,  but  as  unavailably.  If  I  have  individually  occasioned 
you  sorrow  or  disappointment,  God  knows  it  was  no  fault  of 
mine  1  We  stand  on  the  opposite  shores  of  a  dark,  bridgeless 
gulf ;  but  before  we  turn  away  to  be  henceforth  strangers,  I 
stretch  out  my  hand  to  you  in  friendly  farewell — deeply  regretting 
the  pain  which  I  may  have  innocently  caused  you,  and  asking 
your  forgiveness.  j\[r.  Aubrey,  remember  me  as  I  was,  not  as  I 
am.  Good-by,  my  friend.  May  God  bless  you  in  coming  years, 
and  crown  your  life  with  the  happiness  you  merit  is  the  earnest 
prayer  of  my  heart." 

The  rare  blue  cord  on  her  brow  told  how  fiercely  the  lava- 
flood  surged  under  its  icy  bands,  and  the  blanched  lip  matched 
her  cheek  in  colorlessness  ;  save  these  tokens  of  anguish,  no  other 
was  visible. 

Russell  drew  down  the  hand  from  his  shoulder,  and  folded  it 
in  both  his  own. 

"  Irene,  are  we  to  walk  difi'erent  paths  henceforth — utter 
strangers  ?     Is  such  your  will  !" 

"  Such  is  the  necessity,  which  must  be  as  apparent  to  you  as 
to  me.  Do  not  doubt  my  friendship,  Mr.  Aubrey  ;  but  doubt 
the  propriety  of  my  parading  it  before  the  world." 

lie  bent  his  cheek  down  on  her  cold  hand,  then  raised  it  to 
his  lips  once,  twice — laid  it  back  on  her  lap,  and  taking  his  hat, 
walked  away  toward  town. 

Two  blithe  crickets  chirped  merrily  somewhere  in  the  brick 
pavement  round  the  door  ;  a  solitary  mocking-bird,  perched  on 
the  limb  of  a  neighboring  china-tree,  warbled  his  sweet  varied 
notes  as  if  in  answer  ;  the  mellow  diapason  of  the  falls  rose 
soothingly  over  all,  and  the  blue-robed  woman  sat  still  as  the  stone 


332  MACARIA  ;    OR, 

steps  of  the  factory,  watching  the  vanishing  dying  sparkles  of  a 
crystal  draught  of  joy  which  fate  had  rudely  dashed  at  her  feet, 
sternly  denying  the  parched  eager  lips. 

For  some  time  she  remained  just  as  Russell  had  left  her,  then 
the  white  arms  and  dry  eyes  were  raised  to  the  midnight  sky. 

"  My  God  !  my  God  !  strengthen  me  in  my  desolation  !" 

She  put  back  the  folds  of  hair,  that,  damp  with  dew,  clung 
to  her  gleaming  temples,  and  recrossing  the  wide  road  or  street, 
ntered  the  chamber  of  death.  Low-spoken  words  crept  to  and 
fro  between  Mrs.  Martin  and  two  middle-aged,  sad-faced  women 
of  the  Row,  who  sat  around  the  caudle  on  the  little  pine  table, 
clipping  and  scolloping  a  jaconet  shroud.  As  Irene  approached 
the  scissors  rested,  and  all  looked  up. 

"  Where  is  Philip,  Mrs.  Martin  ?  I  shall  ask  him  to  walk 
home  with'me,  and  not  wait  for  the  carriage." 

"  I  expect  he  is  asleep.  Miss  Irene — but  I  will  wake  him." 

"  You  need  not  ;  I  think  I  hear  wheels.  Yes  ;  they  are  com- 
ing for  me.  Mrs.  Martin,  I  will  see  you  about  Susan  and  John- 
nie to-morrow  or  next  day  ;  meantime,  I  leave  them  in  your  care- 
Goo  d-night." 

"  What  a  white  angel  she  is  ! — almost  as  pale  as  the  poor 
creature  on  the  bed  yonder.  I  catch  my  breath  sometunes  when 
she  looks  like  she  did  just  now." 

All  three  sighed  simultaneously,  and  the  dull  click,  click,  be- 
gan again. 

It  was  not  the  carriage  which  Irene  met  at  the  door,  but  Dr. 
Arnold's  buggy. 

"  Irene,  are  you  ready  to  go  home  ?" 

"  Yes.     Mrs.  Davis  is  dead." 

"  As  I  w^as  leaving  Mrs.  Churchill's,  your  father  told  me 
where  you  were,  and  I  thought  I  would  come  after  you.  Put  on 
your  shawl  and  jump  in.  You  are  in  a  pretty  plight,  truly,  to  stand 
over  a  death-bed  !  '  Vanity  of  vanities  I  all  is  vanity  !'  Here 
let  me  wrap  that  gauze  cloud  around  your  head.     Now  then  !  " 

The  top  of  the  buggy  had  been  lowered,  and  as  they  rode 
homeward  she  leaned  her  head  back,  turning  her  face  to  the 
sickly  moonlight. 


ALTARS    OF   6ACKIFICE.  333 

"  Irene,  did  Aubrey  come  up  here  with  you  ?" 

"  No,  sir.  He  was  at  the  Row  for  awhile,  however.  You 
must  have  met  him  returning." 

"  I  did  ;  what  did  he  want  here  ?" 

"  You  must  ask  him,  if  you  are  curious.  It  is  no  business  of 
either  yours  or  mine  to  watch  his  movements." 

"  I  wonder  he  was  able  to  tear  himself  from  that  brown  Sybil, 
Salome.  What  a  splendid  dark  paii*  they  will  be  some  day, 
when  he  makes  her  Mrs.  Aubrey  I" 

Surgeon-like,  he  was  pressing  his  finger  heavily  on  the  wound, 
but  no  flinching  could  be  detected — no  moan  of  pain  ;  and  he  was 
startled  by  a  singular  short,  quick  laugh,  which  sounded  to  his 
ear  like  the  sudden  snapping  of  a  musical  string.  It  was  the 
first  time  he  had  heard  her  laugh  since  her  return  from  New 
York. 

"  Sage  of  Sinope  I  how  long  since  your  transmigration  iuto  a 
latter-day  news-monger  ?" 

"  News-monger  be  hanged  I  It  is  a  transparent  fact  that 
Aubrey  intends  to  marry  the  daughter  of  Herodias.  Don't  you 
believe  it,  Irene  ?" 

"  Doctor,  I  believe  I  have  dropped  my  bouquet-holder.  I  am 
sorry  to  give  you  so  much  trouble,  bnt  uncle  Eric  bought  it  for 
me  in  Geneva,  and  I  should  dislike  to  lose  it.  Give  me  the 
reins.     Yonder  it  is,  in  the  sand — I  see  its  glitter." 

Fulminating  inaudible  plagues  on  the  chased  silver  toy,  the 
doctor  picked  it  up  and  placed  it  in  her  hand. 

"  Drop  yourself  out  next,  won't  you,  when  you  have  another 
question  to  dodge  ?" 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  Who  has  fretted  you,  sir  ?  Were 
you  cheated  out  of  your  supper  by  coming  after  me  ?" 

"  You  fret  me  beyond  all  patience — slipping  everlastingly 
through  my  fingers.  Child,  answer  me  one  thing  truly  ;  are  you 
going  to  marry  Bainbridge,  as  everybody  believes,  and  as  Leon- 
ard led  me  to  suppose  ?" 

"  No,  Dr.  Arnold,  I  shall  never  marry  Mr.  Bainbridge." 

"If  he  does  not  suit  your  fastidious  taste,  pray  who  will, 
Queen  ?" 


334  MACAEIA  ;   OK, ' 

"  You  might,  perhaps,  if  you  were  thirty-five  years  younger, 
and  a  trifle  less  surley.  Doctor,  come  in,  and  let  me  give  you  a 
glass  of  \nne  ;  it  is  very  late,  and  you  must  be  tired." 

"  ^0 — but  I  will  light  my  pipe  at  the  hall-lamp." 

They  went  into  the  house,  and  as  he  filled  and  lighted  his  pipe 
his  cavernous  eyes  ran  curiously  over  her. 

"How  you  have  blazed  to-night?  Your  diamonds  are 
superb." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Go  to  sleep  at  once,  child.  You  look  as  if  you  had  seen  a 
ghost.     What  has  knotted  up  your  forehead  in  that  style  ?" 

"  I  have  looked  upon  a  melancholy  death  .to-night,  and  have 
seen  two  helpless  children  orphaned.  Come  and  see  me  soon  ;  I 
want  to  consult  you  about  an  orphan-asylum  for  which  father 
has  given  me  a  lot.  Good-night,  sir  ;  I  am  vefy  much  obliged 
to  you  for  your  kindness  in  bringing  me  home.  Nobody  else. is 
half  so  considerate  and  thoughtful." 

In  her  own  room  she  took  off  the  jewels,  withered  violets,  and 
moist  tulle — and  drawing  on  her  dressing-gown,  went  up  to  the 
observatory,  and  sat  down  on  the  threshold  of  one  of  the  giuF.s 
doors  looking  eastward. 

"  Think  of  a  man  who  laughs  at  his  own  idiotcy,  and  strU'es 
to  forget  that  he  ever  believed  there  lived  one  woman  who  W'jnld 
be  true  to  her  own  heart,  though  the  heavens  fell  and  the  world 
passed  away  !" 

These  words  of  scorn  were  the  burning  shares  over  which  her 
bare  feet  trod,  and  his  bitter  accents  wailed  up  and  doyrn  her 
lonely  heart,  mournful  as  the  ceaseless  cry  of  "  El  Alma  Ter- 
dida"  in  moonless,  breezeless  Amazonian  solitudes.  Through 
the  remainder  of  that  cloudless  night  she  wrestled  silently — not 
like  the  Jewish  patriarch,  with  angels — but  with  Despair,  grim 
as  Geryon.  At  last,  when  the  sky  flushed  rosily,  hke  an  opal  smit- 
ten with  light,  and  holy  Resignation — the  blessing  born  only  of 
great  trial  like  hers — shed  its  heavenly  chrism  over  the  worn  and 
weary,  bruized  and  bleeding  spirit,  she  gathered  up  the  mangled 
hopes  that  might  have  gladdened,  and  gilded,  and  glorifie^l  her 
earthly  career,  and  pressing  the  ruins  to  her  heart,  laid  herself 


ALTARS   OF    SACRIFICE.  335 

meekly  down,    ofifering  all  upon  the  God-built   altar  of  Filial 
,  Obedience. 
In  the 

"        ,        •        .        early  morning,  when  the  air 
Was  delicate  with  some  last  starry  touch," 

she  opened  the  door  of  her  father's  room  and  approached  the 
bed.  The  noise  wakened  him,  and  raising  himself  on  his  elbow, 
he  looked  wonderiugly  at  her. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Irene  ?  You  look  as  if  you  had  not 
closed  your  eyes." 

"  Father,  you  took  me  in  your  arras  last  night,  and  kissed  me 
as  you  have  not  done  before  for  years  ;  but  I  feared  that  when  Mr. 
Bainbridge  told  you  what  passed  between  us  at  Mrs.  Church- 
hill's,  you  would  again  close  your  heart  against  me.  Do  not  I 
oh,  do  not  I  Because  I  prefer  to  remain  at  home  with  you  rather 
than  accept  his  brilliant  offer,  ought  you  to  love  me  less  ?  I  have 
spent  a  sorrowful,  a  wretched  night,  and,  like  a  weary  child,  I 
come  to  you  to  find  rest  for  my  heart.  Oh,  father  I  my  father  I 
do  not  cast  me  off  again  !  Whom  have  I  in  the  world  but  you  ? 
By  the  memory  of  my  sainted  mother  I  ask— I  claim  your 
love  I" 

"  You  are  a  strange  girl,  Irene  ;  I  never  did  understand  you. 
But  I  don't  want  to  drive  you  from  me,  if  you  prefer  to  live  here 
single.  There  shall  be  peace  between  us,  my  dear  daughter." 
He  leaned  forward  and  laid  his  hand  caressingly  on  her  head,  as 
she  knelt  at  his  bedside,  pleading  with  uplifted  arms. 

"  And  her  face  is  lily  clear, 
Lily  shaped  and  dropped  in  duty 
To  the  law  of  its  own  beauty. 
And  a  forehead  fair  and  saintly, 
Which  two  blue  eyes  undershine, 
Like  meek  prayers  before  a  shrine.'' 


336  macakia;  or, 


CHAPTER  XXYIL 

The  treacherous  four  years  lull  was  broken  at  last  by  the 
mutter  of  the  storm  which  was  so  soon  to  sweep  over  the  nation, 
prostrating  all  interests,  and  bearing  desolation  to  almost  every 
hearthstone  in  our  once  happy,  smiling  land  of  constitutional 
freedom.  Sleepless  watchmen  on  the  tower  of  Southern  Rights 
• — faithful  guardians,  like  William  L.  Yancey,  who  had  stood 
for  years  in  advance  of  pubhc  opinion,  lifting  their  warning 
voices  far  above  the  howling  waves  of  popular  faction  and  party 
strife,  pointing  to  the  only  path  of  safety — now  discerned  the 
cloud  upon  the  horizon,  and  at  the  selection  of  delegates  to  the 
Charleston  Convention  hedged  our  cause  with  cautious  resolu- 
tions. Among  the  number  appointed  was  Russell  Aubrey  ; 
and  during  the  tempestuous  debates  which  ushered  in  the  war  of 
1861,  his  earnest,  eloquent  pleadings  on  the  question  of  a  plat- 
form rang  through  his  state,  touching  the  master-chord  that 
thrilled  responsive  in  the  great  heart  of  the  people.  When  de- 
magogism  triumphed  in  that  Convention,  and  the  Democratic 
party  was  rent  into  hopeless  fi'agments,  Russell  returned  to  stump 
the  state  in  favor  of  the  only  candidate  whom  he  believed  the 
South  could  trust  with  her  liberties  ;  and  during  the  arduous 
campaign  that  ensued,  he  gathered  fresh  laurels  and  won  a  bril- 
liant reputation.  Aside  from  individual  ambitious  projects, 
the  purest  patriotism  nerved  him  to  his  ceaseless  labors.  He 
was  deeply  impressed  with  the  vital  consequences  of  the  Impend- 
ing election :  and  as  the  conviction  forced  itself  upon  his  mind 
that,  through  the  demoralization  of  the  Northern  wing  of 
Democracy,  Lincoln  would  be  elected,  he  endeavored  to  prepare 
the  masses  for  that  final  separation  which  he  foresaw  was  in- 
evitable. During  that  five  months  campaign,  faction,  fanaticism, 
demagogism,  held  high  revel — ran  riot  through  the  land.  Seward 
cantered  toward  Washington  on  the  hobby-labelled  Emancipa- 
tion, dragging  Lincoln  at  his  heels  ;  and  Breckinridge,  our  noble 
standard-bearer,  with  the  constitution  in  his  hand,  pressed  on  to 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  337 

save  the  sacred  precincts  of  the  capitol  from  pollution.  The 
gauntlet  had  been  thrown  down  by  the  South  at  Charleston  and 
Baltimore  :  '*  The  election  of  a  sectional  president  will  be  the 
signal  for  separation."  The  North  sneered  at  the  threat,  de- 
rided the  possibility,  and  in  frantic  defiance  the  die  was  cast. 
The  6th  of  Xovember  dawned  upon  a  vast  populous  empire,  rich 
in  every  resource,  capable  of  the  acme  of  human  greatness  and 
prosperity,  claiming  to  be  the  guardian  of  peaceful  liberty.  It 
set  upon  a  nation  rent  m  twain,  between  whose  sections  yawned 
a  bottomless,  bridgeless  gulf,  where  the  shining  pillars  of  the 
temple  of  Concord  had  stood  for  eighty  years,  and  a  .grating 
sound  of  horror  shuddered  through  the  land  as  the  brazen,  blood- 
clotted  doors  of  Janus  flung  themselves  suddenly  wide  apart. 
Lincoln  was  elected.  Abolitionism,  so  long  adroitly  cloaked, 
was  triumphantly  clad  in  robes  of  state — shameless  now,  and 
hideous,  and  while  the  North  looked  upon  the  loathsome  face  of 
its  political  Mokanna,  the  South  prepared  for  resistance. 

No  surer  indication  of  the  purpose  of  the  Southern  people 
could  have  been  furnished,  than  the  temper  in  which  the  news 
was  received.  No  noisy  outbursts,  expending  resolve  in  empty 
wor^s — no  surface  excitement — but  a  stern  calm  gloom,^set  lips, 
heavy  bent  brows,  appropriate  in  men  who  realized  that  they 
had  a  revolution  on  their  hands  ;  not  indignation  meetings,  with 
fruitless  resolutions — that  they  stood  as  body-guard  for  the 
liberty  of  the  Republic,  and  would  preserve  the  trust  at  all 
hazards.  It  would  seem  that,  for  a  time  at  least,  party  animosi- 
ties would  have  been  crushed  ;  but,  like  the  Eumenides  of 
Orestes,  they  merely  slept  for  a  moment,  starting  up  wolfish  and 
implacable  as  ever  ;  and  even  here,  in  many  instances,  the  old 
acrimony  of  feeling  showed  itself.  Bitter  differences  sprang  up 
at  the  very  threshold  on  the  'modus  operandi  of  Southern  release 
from  Yankee-Egyptic  bondage.  Separate  "  state  action"  or 
"  co-operation"  divided  the  people,  many  of  whom  were  earnestly 
impresse'd  by  the  necessity  and  expediency  of  deliberate,  con- 
certed, simultaneous  action  on  the  part  of  all  the  Southern  states, 
while  others  vehemently  advocated  this  latter  course  solely  be- 
cause the  former  plan  was  advanced  and  supported  by  their  old 


338  MAC  ARIA  ;   OR, 

opponents.  In  this  new  issue,  as  if  fate  persistently  fanned  the 
flame  of  hate  between  Mr.  Huntingdon  and  Russell  Aubrey, 
they  were  again  opposed  as  candidates  for  the  State  Convention, 
Ah  1  will  the  ghost  of  Faction  ever  be  laid  in  this  our  republi- 
can land  ?  Shall  this  insatiate  immemorial  political  Fenris  for 
ever  prey  upon  the  people  ? 

W was   once  more  convulsed,  and  strenuous  efforts 

were  made  by  both  sides.  Russell  was  indefatigable  in  his 
labors  for  prompt,  immediate  state  action,  proclaiming  his  belief 
that  co-operation  was  impracticable  before  secession  ;  and  it  was 
now  that  his  researches  in  the  dusty  regions  of  statistics  came 
admirably  into  play,  as  he  built  up  his  arguments  on  solid  founda- 
tions of  indisputable  calculation. 

For  the  first  time  in  her  life  Irene  openly  confronted  her  father's 
wrath  on  political  grounds.  She  realized  the  imminence  of  the 
danger,  dreaded  the  siren  song  of  co-operation,  and  dauutlessly 
discussed  the  matter  without  hesitation.  The  contest  was  close 
and  heated,  and  resulted  somewhat  singularly  in  the  election  of 
a  mixed  ticket — two  Secessionists  being  returned,  and  one  Co- 
operationist,  Mr.  Huntingdon,  owing  to  personal  popularity. 

While  the  entire  South  was  girding  for  the  contest,  S^uth 
Carolina,  ever  the  avant  courier  in  the  march  of  freedom, 
seceded  ;  and  if  doubt  had  existed  before,  it  vanished  now  from 
every  mind — for  all  felt  that  the  gallant  state  must  be  sustained. 
Soon  after,  Russell  and  Mr.  Huntingdon  stood  face  to  face  on 
the  floor  of  their  own  state  convention,  and  wrestled  desperately. 
The  latter  headed  the  opposition,  and  so  contumacious  did  it 
prove  that  for  some  days,  the  fate  of  the  state  lay  in  dangerous 
equilibrium.  Finally,  the  vigilance  of  the  Secessionists  prevailed, 
and,  late  in  the  afternoon  of  a  winter  day,  the  ordinance  was  signed. 

Electricity  flashed  the  decree  to  every  portion  of  the  state, 
and  the  thunder  of  artillery  and  blaze  of  countless  illuminations 
told  that  the  people  gratefully  and  joyfully  accepted  the  verdict. 

W was  vociferous  ;  and  as  Irene  gazed  from  the  colonade 

on  the  distant  but  brilliant  rows  of  lights  flaming  along  the 
streets,  she  regretted  that  respect  for  her  father's  feelings  kept 
the  windows  of  her  own  home  dark  and  cheerless. 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  339 

Revolution  is  no  lagrgard,  })nt  swift  winged  as  Hermes  ;  and 
in  quick  succession  seven  sovereign  states,  in  virtue  of  the  inherent 
rights  of  a  people  acknowledging  allegiance  only  to  the  funda- 
mental doctrine  that  all  just  governments  rest  on  the  consent  of 
the  governed,  organized  a  provisional  government,  sprang,  Pallas- 
like, upon  the  political  arena,  and  claimed  an  important  role  in 
the  grand  drama  of  the  nineteenth  century.  It  is  not  to  be 
expected  that  a  man  of  Mr.  Huntingdon's  known  acerbity  of 
temper  would  yield  gracefully  to  a.  defeat  against  which  he  had 
struggled  so  earnestly,  and  he  submitted  with  characteristic 
suUenness. 

Great  contrariety  of  opinion  prevailed  concerning  the  course 
of  the  Federal  government — many  deluding  themselves  with  the 
belief  that  the  separation  would  be  peaceful.  But  Russell  had 
stated  his  conviction  at  the  time  of  Lincoln's  election,  that  no 
bloodless  revolution  of  equal  magnitude  had  yet  been  effected, 
and  that  we  must  prepare  to  pay  the  invariable  sacrificial  dues 
which  liberty  inexorably  demands. 

So  firm  was  this  belief,  that  he  applied  himself  to  the  study  of 
military  tactics,  in  anticipation  of  entering  the  army  ;  and  many 
a  midnight  found  him  bending  over  Hardee,  Mahan,  Gilham, 
Jomini,  and  Army  Regulations. 

The  12th  and  13th  of  April  were  days  of  unexampled  excite- 
ment throughout  the  Southern  states.  The  discharge  of  the 
first  gun  from  Fort  Moultrie  crushed  the  last  lingering  vestiges 
of  "  Unionism,"  and  welded  the  entire  Confederacy  in  one  huge 
homogeneous  mass  of  stubborn  resistance  to  despotism.  With  the 
explosion  of  the  first  shell  aimed  by  General  Beauregard  against 
Fort  Sumter  burst  the  frail  painted  bubble  of  "  Reconstruction," 
which  had  danced  alluringly  upon  the  dark,  surging  billows  of 

revolution.     W was  almost  wild  with  anxiety  ;  and   in 

the  afternoon  of  the  second  day  of  the  bombardment,  as  Irene 
watched  the  avenue,  she  saw  her  father  driving  rapidly  home- 
ward.    Descending  the  steps,  she  met  him  at  the  buggy. 

"  Beauregard  has  taken  Sumter.  Anderson  surrendered 
unconditionally.     Ko  lives  lost." 

"Thank  God!" 


340  macaria;  or, 

They  sat  down  on  the  steps,  and  a  moment  after  the  roar  of 
guns  shook  the  atmosphere,  and  cheer  after  cheer  went  up  the 
evening  sky. 

**  Act  1,  of  a  long  and  bloody  civil  war,"  said  Mr.  Huntingdon 
gravely. 

"  Perhaps  so,  father  ;  but  it  was  forced  upon  us.  We  left  no 
honorable  means  untried  to  prevent  it,  and  now  it  must  be  accept- 
ed as  the  least  of  two  evils.  Political  bondage — worse  than 
Russian  serfdom — or  armed  resistance  ;  no  other  alternative, 
turn  it  which  way  you  will  ;  and  the  Southern  people  are  not  of 
stufif  to  deliberate  as  to  choice  in  such  an  issue .  God  is  witness 
that  we  have  earnestly  endeavored  to  avert  hostilities— that  the 
blood  of  this  war  rests  upon  the  government  at  Washington  : 
our  hands  are  stainless." 

"  I  believe  you  are  right,  and  to-day  I  have  come  to  a  deter- 
mination which  will  doubtless  surprise  you." 

He  paused,  and  eyed  her  a  moment. 

"  No,  father  ;  I  am  not  surprised  that  you  have  determined 
to  do  your  duty." 

"  How,  Irene  ?     What  do  you  suppose  that  it  is  ?" 

"  To  use  Nelson's  words,  the  Confederacy  *  expects  that  every 
man  will  do  his  duty  ;'  and  you  are  going  into  the  army." 

"  Who  told  you  that  ?" 

"  My  own  heart,  father  ;  which  tells  me  what  I  should  do  were 
I  in  your  place." 

**  Well,  I  have  written  to  Montgomery,  to  Clapham,  to  ten- 
der my  services.  We  Avere  at  West  Point  together  ;  I  served 
under  him  at  Coutreras  and  Chapultepec,  and  he  will  no  doubt 
press  matters  through  promptly.  The  fact  is,  I  could  not  possi- 
bly stay  at  home  now.  My  blood  has  been  at  boiling  heat  since 
yesterday  morning,  when  I  read  Beauregard's  first  despatch." 

"  Did  you  specify  any  branch  of  the  service  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  told  him  I  preferred  artillery.  What  is  the  matter  ? 
Your  lips  are  as  white  as  cotton.  Courage  failing  you  already, 
at  thought  of  grape,  shell,  and  canister  ?" 

A  long  shiver  crept  over  her,  and  she  shielded  her  face  with 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  341 

lier  hands.     "When  she  met  his  eagle  eye  again  her  voice  was  un- 
steady. 

"  Oh,  father  !  if  I  were  only  a  man,  that  I  might  go  with  you 
— stand  by  you  under  all  circumstances.  Could  n't  you  take  me 
anyhow  ?  Surely  a  daughter  may  follow  her  father,  even  on  the 
battle-field?" 

He  laughed  lightly,  and  swept  his  fingers  over  her  head. 

"  Could  n't  you  learn  a  little  common-sense,  if  you  were  to  try  ? 
Do  you  suppose  I  want  all  this  gold  braid  of  yours  streaming  in 
my  face  while  I  am  getting  my  guns  in  position  ?  A  pretty  fig- 
ure you  would  cut  in  the  midst  of  my  battery  !  Really,  though, 
Irene,  I  do  not  believe  that  you  would  flinch  before  all  the  can- 
non of  Borodino.  My  blood  beats  at  your  heart,  and  it  has  never 
yet  shown  a  cowardly  drop.  If  you  were  a  boy,  I  swear  you 
would  not  disgrace  my  name  in  any  conflict.  By  the  way,  what 
shall  I  do  with  you  ?     It  won't  do  to  leave  you  here  all  alone." 

"  Why  not,  father  ?  Home  is  certainly  the  proper  place  for 
me,  if  you  can  not  take  me  with  you." 

"  What !  with  nobody  but  the  servants  ?" 

"  They  will  take  better  care  of  me  than  anybody  else.  Nellie, 
and  Andrew,  and  John  are  the  only  guardians  I  want  in  your 
absence.  They  have  watched  over  me  all  my  life,  and  they  will 
do  it  to  the  end.     Give  yourself  no  trouble,  sir,  on  my  account." 

"  I  suppose  your  uncle  Eric  will  be  home  before  long  ;  he  can 
stay  here  till  I  come  back — or — till  the  troubles  are  over.  In  the 
meantime,  you  could  be  with  the  Harrises,  or  Hendersons,  or 
Mrs.  Churchhill." 

"  No,  sir  ;  I  can  stay  here,  which  is  infinitely  preferable  on 
many  accounts.  I  will,  with  your  permission,  invite  Mrs.  Canip 
bell  to  shut  up  the  parsonage  in  her  husband's  absence,  and  re- 
main with  me  till  uncle  Eric  returns.  I  have  no  doubt  that  she 
will  be  glad  to  make  the  change.     Do  you  approve  the  plan  ?" 

"  Yes.  That  arrangement  will  answer  for  the  present,  and 
Arnold  will  be  here  to  take  care  of  you." 

At  the  close  of  a  week  a  telegraphic  despatch  was  received, 
informing  Mr.  Huntingdon  of  his  appointment  as  major  in  the 


3  42  MACAETA  ;   OR, 

provisional  army  of  the  Confederacy,  and  containing  an  order  to 
report  immediately  for  duty. 

Some  days  of  delay  were  consumed  in  necessary  preparations 
for  an  indefinite  absence.  Sundry  papers  were  drawn  up  by 
Judge  Harris — an  old  will  w^as  destroyed,  a  new  one  made — 
and  explicit  directions  were  reiterated  to  .the  overseer  at  the 
plantation.  More  reticent  than  ever,  Irene  busied  herself  in  de- 
vising and  arranging  various  little  comforts  for  her  father,  when 
he  should  be  debarred  from  the  luxuries  of  home.  No  traces  of 
tears  were  ever  visible  on  her  grave,  composed  face  ;  but  several 
times,  on  coming  suddenly  into  the  room,  he  found  that  her  work 
had  fallen  into  her  lap,  and  that  her  head  was  bowed  down  on 
her  arms.  Once  he  distinguished  low  pleading  words  of  prayer. 
She  loved  him  with  a  devotion  very  rarely  found  between  father 
and  child,  and  this  separation  cost  her  hours  of  silent  agony, 
which  even  her  father  could  not  fully  appreciate. 

Having  completed  his  arrangements,  and  ordered  the  carriage 
to  be  in  readiness  at  daylight  next  morning  to  convey  him  to  the 
depot,  he  bade  her  good-night  much  as  usual,  and  retired  to  his 
own  room. 

But  thought  was  too  busy  to  admit  of  sleep.  He  turned  rest- 
lessly on  his  pillow,  rose,  and  smoked  a  second  cigar,  and  return- 
ed, to  find  himself  more  wakefiil  than  ever.  The  clock  down 
stairs  in  the  library  struck  one  ;  his  door  opened  softly,  and,  by 
the  dim  moonlight  struggling  through  the  window,  he  saw  Irene 
glide  to  his  bedside. 

"  Why  don't  you  go  to  sleep,  Irene  ?" 

"  Because  I  can't.     I  am  too  miserable.'^ 

Her  voice  was  dry,  but  broken,  faltering. 

"  I  never  knew  you  to  be  nervous  before  ;  I  thought  you 
scorned  nerves  ?  Here,  my  daughter — take  this  pillow,  and  lie 
down  by  me." 

She  put  her  arm  about  his  neck,  drawing  his  face  close  to  hers, 
and  he  felt  her  lips  quiver  as  they  touched  his  cheek. 

"  Father,  when  you  know  exactly  where  you  are  to  be  station- 
ed, won't  you  let  me  come  and  stay  somewhere  in  the  vicinity, 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  343 

where  I  can  be  with  you  if  you  sliouM  l)e  wounded  ?  Do  prom- 
b.e  me  this  ;  it  will  be  the  only  comfort  I  can  have." 

"The  neighborliood  of  an  army  would  not  be  a  pleasant  place 
for  you  ;  beside,  you  could  do  me  no  good  even  if  I  were  hurt. 
I  shall  have  a  surgeon  to  attend  to  all  such  work  much  better 
than  your  inexperienced  hands  could  possibly  do  it.  I  am  sur- 
prised at  you,  Irene  ;  upon  my  word,  I  am.  I  thought  you 
wanted  me  to  go  into  service  promptly  ?" 

"  So  I  do,  father.  I  think  that  every  man  in  the  Confederacy 
who  can  leave  his  familv  should  be  in  our  armv  :  but  a  stern 
sense  of  duty  does  not  prevent  people  from  suffering  at  separa- 
tion and  thought  of  danger.  I  should  be  unworthy  of  my  coun- 
try if  T  were  selfish  enough  to  want  to  keep  you  from  its  de- 
fence ;  and  yet  I  were  unworthy  of  my  father  if  I  could  see  you 
leave  home,  under  such  circumstances,  without  great  grief.  Oh  I 
if  I  could  only  go  with  you  I  But  to  have  to  stay  here,  useless 
and  inactive  !" 

"  Yes — it  is  bad  to  be  obliged  to  leave  you  behind,  but  it  can't 
be  helped.  I  should  feel  much  better  satisfied  if  you  were  mar- 
ried, and  had  somebody  to  take  care  of  you  in  case  anything 
happens  to  me.  It  is  your  own  fault  that  you  are  not ;  I  never 
could  understand  what  possessed  you  to  discard  Bainbridge. 
Still,  that  is  past,  and  I  suppose  irreparable,  and  now  you  must 
abide  by  your  own  choice." 

"  I  am  satisfied  with  my  choice  ;  have  no  regrets  on  any  score, 
save  that  of  your  departure.  But,  father,  the  future  is  dark  and 
uncertain  ;  and  I  feel  that  I  want  an  assurance  of  your  entire 
reconciliation  and  aff'ection  before  you  go.  I  came  here  to  say 
to  you  that  I  deeply  regret  all  the  unfortunate  circumstances  of 
toy  life  which  caused  you  to  treat  me  so  coldly  for  a  season — 
that  if  in  anything  I  have  ever  seemed  obstinate  or  undutiful,  it 
was  not  because  I  failed  in  love  for  you,  but  from  an  unhappy 
difference  of  opinion  as  to  my  duty  under  very  trying  circum- 
stances. Father,  my  heart  ached  very  bitterly  under  your 
estrangement — the  very  memory  is  unutterably  painful.  I  want 
your  full,  free  forgiveness  now,  for  all  the  trouble  I  have  ever  oo- 
casioued  you.     Ob,  father  !  give  it  to  me  1" 


344  MAC  ARIA  ;   OR, 

He  drew  her  close  to  liim^  and  kissed  her  twice. 

"  You  have  my  forgiveness,  my  daughter — though  I  must  tell  you 
that  your  treatment  of  poor  Hugh  has  been  a  continual  source  of 
sorrow  and  keen  disappointment  to  me.  I  never  can  forget  your 
disobedience  in  that  matter.  I  do  not  believe  you  will  ever  be 
happy,  you  have  such  a  strange  disposition  ;  but  since  you  took 
matters  so  completely  in  your  own  hands,  you  have  only  yourself 
to  reproach.  Irene,  I  very  often  wonder  whether  you  have  any 
heart — for  it  seems  to  me  that  if  you  have,  it  would-  have  been 
won  by  the  devotion  which  has  been  lavished  on  you  more  than 
once.  You  are  the  only  woman  I  ever  knew  who  appeared  ut- 
terly incapable  of  love  ;  and  I  sometimes  wonder  what  will  become 
of  you  when  I  am  dead." 

"  God  will  protect  me.  I  look  continually  to  his  guardianship. 
Father,  do  not  be  offended  if  I  beg  you  most  earnestly  to  give 
some  thought  to  Him  who  has  blessed  you  so  abundantly  in  the 
privileges  of  this  world,  and  to  prepare  for  that  future  into  which 
you  may  be  usliered,  at  any  moment,  from  the  battle-field.  You 
have  never  allowed  me  to  speak  to  you  on  this  subject  ;  but  oh, 
my  dear  father  I  it  is  too  solemn  a  question  to  be  put  aside  any 
longer.  If  you  would  only  pray  for  yourself,  my  mind  would  be 
eased  of  such  a  weight  of  anxiety  and  apprehension.  Oh  I  that 
the  spirit  of  my  mother  may  join  in  my  prayers  before  the  Throne 
in  your  behalf." 

He  unclasped  her  arm  and  turned  his  face  away,  saying  coldly  : 

"  Do  you  consider  it  your  privilege  to  tell  me  that  I  am  so 
wicked  there  is  no  hope  for  me  in  the  next  world,  if  there  be 
one  ?" 

"  No  !  no  !  father  I  but  it  is  enjoined,  as  the  duty  of  even  the 
purest  and  holiest,  to  acknowledge  their  dependence  upon  God, 
and  to  supplicate  his  mercy  and  direction.  It  is  true,  I  pray  con- 
stantly for  you,  but  that  is  a  duty  which  our  Maker  requires 
every  individual  to  perform  for  himself.  Do  not  be  displeased, 
father  ;  if  it  were  anything  less  than  your  eternal  happiness,  I 
should  not  presume  to  question  your  conduct.  I  can  only  hope 
and  trust  that  your  life  will  be  spared,  and  that  some  day  you 
will  without  offence,  suffer  me  to  talk  to  you  of  what  deeply  con- 


ALTARS    OF   SACRTFICE.  345 

corns  my  peace  of  mind.  I  won't  keep  you  awake  any  longer,  as 
you  have  a  tedious  journey  before  you.  Good-night,  my  dear 
father." 

She  kissed  him  tenderly  and  left  him,  closing  the  door  softly 
behind  her. 

A  spectral  crescent  moon  flickered  in  the  sky,  and  stars  still 
burned  in  the  violet  East,  when  the  carriage  drove  to  the  door, 
and  Irene  followed  her  father  to  the  steps. 

Even  in  that  dim,  uncertain  grey  light  he  could  see  that  her 
face  was  rigid  and  haggard,  and  tears  filled  his  cold,  brilliant  eyes 
as  he  folded  her  to  his  heart. 

"  Good-by,  Beauty.  Cheer  up,  my  brave  child  !  and  look  on 
the  bright  side.  After  all,  I  may  come  back  a  brigadier-general, 
and  make  you  one  of  my  staff-officers  !  You  shall  be  my  adjutant, 
and  light  up  my  office  with  your  golden  head.  Take  care  of 
yourself  till  Eric  comes,  and  write  to  me  often.  Good-by,  my 
dear,  my  darling  daughter." 

She  trembled  convulsively,  pressing  her  lips  repeatedly  to  his. 

"  Oh,  may  God  bless  you,  my  father,  and  bring  you  safely  back 
to  me  !" 

He  unwound  her  arms,  put  her  gently  aside,  and  stepped  into 
the  carriage. 

William,  the  cook,  who  was  to  accompany  him,  stood  sobbing 
liear  the  door,  and  now  advancing,  grasped  her  hand. 

"  Good-by,  Miss  Irene.  May  the  Lord  protect  you  all  till  we 
come  back." 

"  William,  I  look  to  you  to  take  care  of  father,  and  let  me 
know  at  once  if  anything  happens." 

"  I  will.  Miss  Irene.  I  promise  you  I  will  take  good  care  of 
master,  and  telegraph  you  if  he  is  hurt." 

He  wrung  her  hand,  the  carriage  rolled  rapidly  away,  and  the 
sorrow-stricken,  tearless  woman  sat  down  on  the  steps  and 
dropped  her  head  in  her  hands.  Old  Nellie  drew  near,  wiping 
her  eyes,  and  essaying  comfort. 

"  Don't  fret  so,  child.  When  trouble  comes  it  will  be  time 
enough  to  grieve  over  it.  Master  was  in  the  Mexican  war,  and 
never  had  a  scratch  ;  and  maybe  he  will  be  as  lucky  this  time. 

15*  ^ 


346  MACAETA  ;   OE, 

Don't  harden  your  face  in  that  flinty  way.     You  never  would 
cry  like  other  children,  but  just  set  yourself  straight  up,  for  al 
the  world  like  one  of  the    stone    figures    standing  over  your 
grandfather's  grave.     Try  to  come  and  take  a  nap  ;  I  know  you 
have  n't  shut  your  eyes  this  night." 

"  No — I  can't  sleep.     Go  in,  Nellie,  and  leave  me  to  myself." 

The  shrill  scream  of  the  locomotive  rang  through  the  still,  dewy 
air,  and  between  two  neighboring  hills  the  long  train  of  cars 
dashed  on,  leaving  a  fiery  track  of  sparks  as  it  disappeared  around 
a  curve.  Oppressed  with  a  horrible  dread,  against  which  she 
struG^gled  in  vain,  Irene  remained  alone,  and  was  onlv  aroused 
from  her  painful  reverie  by  the  low  musical  cooing  of  the  pigeons, 
already  astir.  As  they  fluttered  and  nestled  about,  she  extended 
her  arms,  and  catching  two  of  the  gentlest  to  her  heart,  murmured, 
mournfully  : 

"  Come,  messengers  of  peace  !  bring  me  resignation.  Teach 
me  patience  and  faith." 

The  empty  carriage  came  slowly  up  the  avenue,  as  if  returning 
from  a  funeral,  and  passed  to  the  stable-yard  ;  birds  chirped, 
twittered,  sang  in  the  wavering,  glistening  tree-tops  ;  the  sun 
flashed  up  in  conquering  splendor,  and  the  glory  of  the  spring  day 
broke  upon  the  world. 

"  '  To-day  thou  girdest  up  thy  loins  thyself, 
And  goest  where  thou  would'st :  presently 
Others  shall  gix'd  thee,'  said  the  lord,  'to  go 
"VMiere  thou  would'st  not.'  " 


CHAPTER  XXYIir. 

To  those  who  reside  at  the  convulsed  throbbing  heart  of  a 
great  revolution,  a  lifetime  seems  compressed  into  the  compass  of 
days  and  weeks,  and  men  and  women  are  conscious  of  growing 
prematurely  old  while  watching  the  rushing,  thundering  tramp  of 
events,  portentous  with  the  fate  of  nations.     W presented 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  347 

the  appearance  of  a  military  camp,  rather  than  the  peaceful  manu- 
facturing town  of  yore.  Every  vacant  lot  was  converted  into 
a  parade-ground — and  the  dash  of  cavalry,  the  low,  sullen  rumbling 
of  artillery,  and  the  slow,  steady  tread  of  infantry,  echoed  through 
its  wide,  handsome  streets.  Flag-staffs  were  erected  from  public 
buildings,  private  residences,  and  at  the  most  frequent  corners, 
and  from  these  floated  banners  of  ail  sizes,  tossing  proudly  to  the 
balmy  breeze  the  new-born  ensign  of  freedom — around  which 
clustered  the  hopes  of  a  people  who  felt  that  upon  them,  and  them 
only,  now  devolved  the  sacred  duty  of  proving  to  the  world  the 
capacity  of  a  nation  for  self  government.  In  view  of  the  ini- 
quitous and  impossible  task  which  it  had  insanely  set  itself  to  ac- 
complish, the  government  at  Washington  had  swept  aside  all 
constitutional  forms,  in  order  to  free  its  hands  for  the  work  of 
blood — had  ultimated  in  complete  despotism.  The  press  was 
thoroughly  muzzled — freedom  of  speech  was  erased  from  the 
list  of  American  privileges  ;  the  crowded  cells  of  Bastile  Lafay- 
ette, Mc Henry,  and  Warren  wailed  out  to  the  civilized  world 
that  habeas  corpus  was  no  more  ;  and,  terror-stricken  at  the 
hideous  figure  of  Absolutism  carved  by  the  cunning  fingers  of 
Lincoln  and  Seward,  and  set  up  for  worship  at  Washington,  Lib- 
erty fled  from  her  polluted  fane,  and  sought  shelter  and  shrine  on 
the  banner  of  the  Confederacy,  in  the  dauntless,  devoted  hearts 
of  its  unconquerable  patriots.  Proudly  and  fondly  was  the  divinity 
guarded.  Smiling  flowery  valleys  rang  with  pjeans  that  rose  high 
above  the  din  of  deadly  strife — and  rugged,  lonely  hills  and  puf*^ 
pie  mountains  lifted  themselves  to  the  God  of  battle,  like  huge 
smoking  altars  red  with  the  noble  blood  of  slauo-htered  heroes. 
Loathing  and  detestation  succeeded  the  old  afl*ection  for  the 
Federal  government,  and  the  "Union"  became  everywhere  the 
synonyme  of  political  duplicity,  despotism,  and  the  utter  al)- 
rogation  of  all  that  had  once  constituted  American  freedom,  and 
rendered  the  republic,  in  earlier  years,  the  civil  Pharos  of  Chris- 
tendom. The  Confederacy  realized  that  the  hour  had  arrived 
when  the  historic  Sphinx  must  find  an  (Ediplms,  or  Democratic 
Republican  Ijiberty  would  be  devoured,  swept  away,  with  the 
debris  of  other  dead  systems.     Lifting  their  eyes  to  God  for 


348  MACARIA  ;    OR, 

blessing,  the  men  of  the  South  girded  on  their  swords  and  resolved, 
calmly  and  solemnly,  to  prove  that  (Edipus — to  read,  and  for  ever 
set  at  rest  the  haunting,  vexing  riddle.  Another  adjective  then 
*'  Spartan"  must  fleck  with  glory  the  pages  of  future  historians, 
for  all  the  stern  resolution  and  self-abnegation  of  Rome  and  Lace- 
dcemon  had  entered  the  souls  of  Southern  women.  Mothers 
closed  their  lips  firmly  to  repress  a  wail  of  sorrow  as  they  buckled 
on  the  swords  of  their  first-born,  and  sent  them  forth  with  a 
"  God-speed  !"  to  battle  for  the  right ;  fond  wives  silently  packed 
their  husbands'  knapsacks,  with  hands  that  knew  no  faltering  ; 
and  sisters  with  tearless  eyes,  bent  by  the  light  of  midnight 
lamps  over  canteens  which  their  thoughtful  care  covered  for 
brothers  who  were  to  start  to  the  scene  of  action  on  the  morrow. 
A  nation  of  laboring,  nimble-fingered,  prayerful-hearted,  brave- 
spirited  women,  and  chivalric,  high-souled,  heroic  men,  who  had 
never  learned  that  Americans  could  live  and  not  be  free.  Grant 
us  our  reward,  oh  God  !  the  independence  of  the  land  we  hold 
so  dear. 

W gave  her  young  men  liberally  ;  company  after  com- 
pany was  equipped,  furnished  with  ample  funds  by  the  munifi- 
cence of  citizens  who  remained,  and  sent  forward  to  Virginia,  to 
make  their  breasts  a  shield  for  the  proud  old  "  Mother  of  Presi- 
dents." The  battle  of  Bethel  was  regarded  as  part  of  an  over- 
ture to  the  opera  of  Blood,  yclept  "  Subjugation,"  and  people 
watched  in  silence  for  the  crimson  curtain  to  rise  on  the  banks  of 
the  Potomac.  Russell  Aubrey  had  succeeded  in  raising  a  fine 
full  company  for  the  war,  as  contra-distinguished  from  twelve- 
months volunteers  ;  and  to  properly  drill  and  discipline  it,  he 
bent  all  the  energy  of  his  character.  It  was  made  the  nucleus 
of  a  new  regiment,  recruits  gathered  rapidly,  and  when  the  regi- 
ment organized,  preparatory  to  starting  for  Virginia,  he  was 
elected  colonel,  with  Herbert  Blackwell  for  lieutenant-colonel, 
and  Charles  Harris  was  appointed  adjutant.  They  were  tempo- 
rarily encamped  on  the  common  between  the  railroad  depot  and 
Mr.  Huntingdon's  residence,  and  from  the  observatory  or  colon- 
nade Irene  could  look  down  on  the  gleaming  tents  and  the  flag- 
staflf  that  stood  before  the  officers'  quarters.      Reveille  startled 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  349 

her  at  dawn,  and  tattoo  rep^nlarly  warned  her  of  the  shortness  of 
summer  nights.  As  tlie  fiery  carriage-horses  would  not  brook 
the  sight  of  the  encampment,  she  discarded  them  for  a  time,  and 
when  compelled  to  leave  home  rode  Erebus  at  no  slight  risk  of 
lier  life — for  he  evinced  the  greatest  repugnance  to  the  sound  of 
drum  or  fife. 

One  afternoon  she  went  over  to  the  Row,  and  thence  to  the 
factory.  A  new  company  had  been  named  in  honor  of  her  fa- 
ther ;  uniforms  and  haversacks  were  to  be  furnished,  and  Mr. 
Huntingdon  had  intrusted  her  with  the  commission.  Selecting 
the  cloth  and  accomplishing  her  errand,  she  returned  by  way 
of  the  orphan-asylum,  whose  brick  walls  were  rapidly  rising  un- 
der her  supervision.  One  of  the  workmen  took  her  horse,  and 
she  went  over  the  building,  talking  to  the  principal  mechanic 
about  some  additional  closets  which  she  desired  to  have  inserted. 
Dr.  Arnold  chanced  to  be  passing,  but  saw  Erebus  at  the 
gate,  stopped,  and  came  in. 

"  I  was  just  going  up  the  Hill  to  see  you,  Queen — glad  I  am 
saved  the  trouble.  Here,  sit  down  a  minute  ;  I  will  clear  the 
shavings  away.     When  did  you  hear  from  Leonard  ?" 

"  I  had  a  letter  yesterday.  He  was  well,  and  on  outpost  duty 
near  Manassas." 

"  Well,  I  shall  join  him  very  soon." 

"  Sir  ?" 

"  I  say  I  shall  join  him  very  soon  ;  don't  you  believe  it  ? 
Why  should  n't  I  serve  my  country  as  well  as  younger  men  ? 
The  fact  is,  I  am  going  as  surgeon  of  Aubrey's  regiment.  It 
would  never  do  to  have  the  handsome  young  colonel  maimed  for 
life,  through  the  awkwardness  of  a  new-fledged  M.  D.  Miss  Sa- 
lome would  spoil  her  superb  eyes  with  crying — which  catastrophe 
would,  doubtless,  distress  him  more  than  the  loss  of  a  limb — 
eh,  Irene?" 

She  looked  at  him,  betraying  neither  surprise  nor  regret. 

**  When  will  you  leave  W ?" 

"  Day  after  to-morrow  morning  ;  can't  get  transportation  any 
sooner.  Aubrey  has  received  orders  to  report  at  once  to  Gene- 
ral Beauregard.     Child,  have  you  been  sick  ?" 


350  MACARIA  ;   OR, 

"  No,  sir.  I  am  glad  you  are  going  with  the  regiment ;  very 
glad.  Every  good  surgeon  in  the  Confederacy  should  hasten  to 
the  front  line  of  our  armies.  Since  you  leave  home,  I  am  par- 
ticularly glad  that  you  are  going  to  Manassas,  where  you  can  be 
near  father." 

"  Humph  !  Do  you  suppose  that  I  am  a  patent  life-preserver 
against  minie  balls  and  grape-shot  ?" 

"  I  know  you  will  do  all  that  skill  and  affection  can  suggest, 
and  I  shall  feel  much  better  satisfied." 

He  mused  a  moment,  watching  her  furtively. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  heard  of  the  performance  for  to-mor- 
row ?" 

"  No,  sir.     To  what  do  you  allude  ?" 

"  The  daughter  of  Herodias  is  preparing  to  dance." 

"  I  don't  understand  you.  Doctor." 

"  Oh,  don't  you,  indeed  ?  Well,  then,  she  intends  to  present 
a  splendid  regimental  flag  with  her  own  brown  hands  ;  and  as 
Aubrey  is  to  receive  it,  the  regiment  will  march  to  Mrs.  Church- 
hill's,  where  the  speeches  will  be  delivered.     Will  you  attend  ?" 

"  Scarcely,  I  presume,  as  I  am  not  invited.  I  knew  that  Sa- 
lome was  having  an  elegant  flag  made,  but  was  not  aware  that 
to-morrow  was  appointed  for  the  ceremony  of  presentation." 

"  Who  will  look  after  you  when  I  am  gone  ?  You  are  the 
only  tie  I  have  here.     I  can't  bear  to  leave  you." 

"  I  dare  say  I  shall  get  on  very  well  ;  and,  beside,  you,  of 
course,  must  go  and  do  your  duty,  no  matter  what  happens." 

"  But  you  will  be  so  lonely  and  isolated  till  Eric  comes." 

She  smiled  suddenly,  strangely,  yet  with  no  tinge  of  bitter- 
ness. 

"  That  is  nothing  new.     I  have  been  solitary  all  my  life." 

"  And  it  is  your  own  fault.  You  might  have  married  like 
other  people,  and  been  happier." 

"  You  are  mistaken  in  assuming  that  I  am  not  happy  in  my 
home." 

"  Hush,  Irene  !  hush  !  I  know  the  signs  of  true  happiness,  if 
I  don't  possess  it  myself.  You  never  murmur  ;  oh,  no  ! — you 
are  too  proud  !     You  don't  droop  like  some  poor,  weak,  sickly 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  '351 

souls  ;  oh,  no  ! — you  are  too  stately  and  regal.  Yon  will  live 
and  die  a  model  of  reticent  chill  propriety  ;  and  when  you  are 
in  your  shroud  your  placid,  treacherous  face  will  bear  no  witness 
that  you  were  cheated  out  of  your  rights  in  this  world." 

Again  she  smiled,  and  laid  her  hand  on  his. 

"  What  a  pity  you  mistook  your  forte  in  early  life  ;  with  such 
a  fertile  imagination,  not  physic,  but  fiction,  was  your  calling. 
When  will  you  come  to  see  me  ?  I  want  you  to  take  a  parcel 
to  father  for  me  ;  and  then  I  want  to  have  a  long  talk." 

"I  know  what  the  long  talk  amounts  to.  You  need  not  hold 
out  any  such  rosy-cheeked  apples  of  Sodom  as  a  bait.  I  am 
coming,  of  course,  after  the  flag  ceremonies,  where  I  am  expect- 
ed. At  one  o'clock  I  will  be  at  the  Hill — perhaps  earlier. 
Where  now  ?" 

"  I  must  go  by  Mrs.  Baker's,  to  see  about  giving  out  some  sew- 
ing for  the  *  Huntingdon  Rifles.'  I  can't  do  it  all  at  home,  and  sev- 
eral families  here  require  work.  I  shall  expect  you  at  one  o'clock 
— shall  have  lunch  ready  for  you.  By  the  way,  Doctor,  isthere 
anything  I  can  do  for  you  in  the  sewing  line  ?  It  would  give  me 
genuine  pleasure  to  make  something  for  you,  if  you  will  only  tell 
me  what  you  need.     Think  over  your  wants." 

She  had  caught  up  her  reins,  but  paused,  looking  at  him.  He 
averted  his  head  quickly. 

"  I  will  tell  you  to-morrow.     Good-evening." 

Turning  from  the  town,  she  took  a  narrow  sandy  road  leading 
among  low,  irregular  hills,  and  after  passing  a  thicket  of  sweet- 
gum,  bay,  and  poplar,  that  bordered  a  clear,  brawling,  rocky-bo- 
somed stream  which  ran  across  the  j^ad,  she  rode  up  to  a  three- 
roomed  log-house.  Two  small  children,  with  anomalous  bluish- 
white  hair,  were  playing  marbles  in  the  passage,  and  a  boy,  ap- 
parently ten  years  of  age,  was  seated  on  the  ground,  whist- 
ling "  Dixie,"  and  making  split  baskets,  such  as  are  generally 
used  on  plantations  for  picking  cotton.  He  threw  down  his 
work  and  ran  to  open  the  gate,  which  was  tied  with  a  piece  of 
rope. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Hanson  ?    Is  your  mother  at  home  ?" 

"  Yes,  ma'm." 


352  MACAETA  ;   OE, 

She  gave  him  her  bridle  and  entered  the  house,  in  one  of  the 
rooms  of  which  she  found  a  tall,  muscular,  powerful-looking  wo- 
man kneeling  on  the  floor,  and  engaged  in  cutting  out  work 
from  a  roll  of  striped  cloth.  Putting  her  grayish  hair  behind 
her  eare,  she  paused,  looked  up,  and,  with  scissors  in  hand,  said, 
bluntly  : 

"  Be  seated.  Miss  Irene.  I  have  n't  time,  or  I  would  get  up. 
Lucinda,  bring  some  water  fresh  from  the  spring,  and  if  your 
grandmother  is  awake,  tell  her  Miss  Irene  is  here." 

"I  see  you  have  not  finished  your  contract,  Mrs.  Baker." 
"  Very  nearlv,  ma'm.     I  will  finish  ofi"  and  send  in  the  last  lot 
of  these  haversacks  by  tweve  o'clock  to-morrow.  The  captain  was 
out  to-day  to  hnrry  me  up  ;  said  the  regiment  had  orders  to 
leave  day  after  to-morrow.    I  gave  him  my  word  he  should  have 
them  by  noon,  and  that  is  something  I  never  break." 
"  Have  you  heard  from  your  husband  since  I  saw  you  ?" 
Agaiu  the  busy  scissors  paused. 

"  Not  a  word.  But  my  boy,  Robert,  has  had  a  terrible  spell 
of  fever  in  Lynchburg.  I  received  a  few  lines  from  the  doctor 
of  the  hospital  yesterday.  Thank  God  !  he  was  better  when  the 
letter  was  written.  His  father  knows  nothing  of  it.  I  can't 
find  out  exactly  where  Mr.  Baker's  company  is.  They  are  do- 
ing good  service,  I  hope,  somewhere — making  their  mark  on  the 
Union  wretches  in  the  Virginia  valley.  I  want  to  hear  that  ray 
husband  had  a  hand  in  burning  Wheeling." 

"  I  believe  you  told  me  that  you  were  from  Virginia." 
"  Yes,  ma'm  ;  but  not  from  that  part  of  it,  I  want  you  to 
understand.     I  was  born  in  Amelia,  thank  my  stars  !  and  that 
is  as  true  as  steel." 

"  It  must  be  a  great  trial  to  you  to  have  your  husband  and 
son  so  far  off,  and  yet  separated." 

''  Of  course  I  hate  to  have  them  away,  and  times  are  hard  for 
such  a  family  as  mine,  with  little  means  of  support  ;  but  I  don't 
grieve.  Every  man  has  to  do  his  duty  now,  and  every  woman, 
too.  I  told  Stephen  I  thought  I  could  take  care  of  the  children 
and  myself — that  I  would  rather  live  on  acorns,  than  that  lie 
should  not  serve  his  country  when  it  needed  him  ;  and  I  told 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  353 

Robert,  when  I  fixed  liim  off,  that  I  never  would  die  contented 
if  he  and  his  father  did  not  both  do  something  to  distinguish 
themselves  in  this  war.  I  am  a  poor  woman,  Miss  Irene,  but 
no  soul  loves  the  Confederacy  better  than  I  do,  or  will  work 
harder  for  it.  I  have  no  money  to  lend  our  government,  but  I 
give  my  husband  and  my  child — and  two  better  soldiers  no  state 
can  show." 

"  You  have  done  your  part  nobly  and  I  trust  both  your 
dear  ones  will  be  spared,  and  brought  safely  back  to  you.  How 
is  your  mother  to-day  ?" 

"  Very  feeble.  I  was  up  nearly  all  night  with  her.  She  had 
one  of  her  bad  spells.     Have  some  water  ;  it  is  sweet  and  cold." 

"  Do  you  want  any  more  work  this  week  ?" 

"  Yes,  ma'm  ;  I  should  like  some  after  to-morrow.  Do  you 
know  where  I  can  get  any  ?" 

"  I  can  give  you  seveiity-five  flannel  ovcrshirts,  and  the  same 
number  of  haversacks  ;  but  you  could  scarcely  finish  them  all  in 
time,  and  I  thought  I  would  send  you  the  shirts,  and  let  Mrs. 
Pritchard  take  the  haversacks.'* 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  get  them.  You  are  not  raising  a 
company  yourself,  Miss  Irene  ?" 

"  Oh,  no  I  but  there  is  a  new  company  named  '  Huntingdon 
Rifles'  for  my  father,  and  he  wishes  to  give  them  everything 
they  need.  When  can  you  come  in  to  see  me  about  cutting  out 
the  shirts  ?" 

"  Day  after  to-morrow  morning,  quite  early,  if  it  will  suit 
you." 

"  That  will  suit  me  very  well.  Here  is  that  remedy  for  asthma, 
which  I  mentioned  to  you  once  before.  If  you  will  try  it  faith- 
fully, 1  have  no  doubt  it  will  at  least  relieve  your  mother  of 
much  sufTering.  If  you  can't  find  the  ingredients  here,  let  me  know, 
and  I  can  get  them  from  the  plantation." 

As  the  kneeling  figure  received  the  slip  of  paper  she  rose,  and 
tears  gathered  in  the  large  clear  gray  eyes. 

"  Thank  you.  Miss  Irene  ;  it  is  very  good  of  you  to  remember 
my  poor  old  mother  so  constantly.  I  am  afraid  nothing  will 
ever  do  her  much  good  ;  but  I  am  grateful  to  you,  and  will  try 


354  MACARIA  ;   OR, 

your  remedy  faithfully.  I  want  to  thank  you,  too,  for  the  good 
you  have  done  Hanson  ;  I  never  saw  a  boy  so  changed.  He  is 
up  by  daylight  Sunday  mornings,  getting  all  things  in  trim,  so 
that  he  can  be  off  to  Sabbath-school.  I  have  always  tried  to 
teach  my  children  to  be  honest  and  upright,  but  I  am  afraid  I 
did  not  do  my  duty  fully  ;  I  am  afraid  they  were  neglected  in 
some  respects,  till  you  began  with  them  in  Sabbath-school." 

''  Your  children  all  learn  very  readily,  but  Hanson  is  particu- 
larly blight.  I  am  very  glad  to  have  him  in  my  class  ;  he  is 
one  of  my  best  pupils." 

As  she  went  homeward  a  shadow  fell  upon  her  face — a  shadow 
darker  than  that  cast  by  the  black  plume  in  her  riding-hat — and 
once  or  twice  her  lips  writhed  from  then*  ordinary  curves  of 
beauty.  Xearing  the  encampment  she  lowered  her  veil,  but  saw 
that  dress  parade  had  been  dismissed,  and  as  she  shook  the  reins 
and  Erebus  quickened  his  gallop,  she  found  herself  face  to  face 
with  the  colonel,  who  had  just  mounted  his  horse  and  was  riding 
toward  town.  She  looked  at  him  and  bowed  ;  but,  in  passing, 
he  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  road  before  him,  and  in  the  duski- 
ness his  face  seemed  colder  and  more  inflexible  than  ever.  Such 
had  been  the  manner  of  their  occasional  meetings  since  the  inter- 
view at  the  factory,  and  she  was  not  surprised  that  this,  her  first 
greeting,  was  disregarded.  The  public  believed  that  an  engage- 
ment existed  between  him  and  Salome,  and  the  attentions  heaped 
upon  him  by  the  family  of  the  latter  certainly  gave  color  to  the 
report.  But  Irene  was  not  deceived  ;  she  had  learned  to  under- 
stand his  nature,  and  knew  that  his  bitterness  of  feeling  and 
studied  avoidance  of  herself  betokened  that  the  old  affection  had 
not  been  crushed.  Struggling  with  the  dictates  of  her  heart, 
and  a  sense  of  the  respect  due  to  her  father's  feelings,  she  passed 
a  sleepless  night  in  pacing  the  gallery  of  the  observatory.  It 
was  a  vigil  of  almost  intolerable  perplexity  and  anguish.  Under 
all  its  painful  aspects  she  patiently  weighed  the  matter,  and  at 
sunrise  next  morning,  throwing  open  the  bUnds  of  her  room,  she 
drew  her  rose- wood  desk  to  the  window,  and  wrote  these  words  : 
"  Col.  Aubrey  : 

"  Before  you  leave  W allow  me  to  see  you  for  a  few 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  355 

moments.  If  yonr  departure  is  positively  fixed  for  to-morrow, 
come  to  nie  this  afternoon,  at  any  hour  which  may  be  most 
convenient. 

"  Respectfully, 

"Irene  Huntingdon. 

"  Hmitingdon  Hill,  June,  1861." 

As  the  regiment  prepared  to  march  to  Mrs.  Churchhill's  resi- 
dence, the  note  was  received  from  Andrew's  hands.  Returning 
his  sword  to  its  scabbard,  the  colonel  read  the  paper  twice,  three 
times — a  heavy  frown  gathered  on  his  forehead,  his  swarthy 
cheek  fired,  and,  thrusting  the  note  into  his  pocket,  he  turned  to- 
ward his  regiment,  saying  hastily  to  the  servant  : 

*'  You  need  not  wait.     No  answer  is  expected." 

At  the  breakfast-table  Irene  opened  a  hasty  missive  from  Sa- 
lome, inviting  her  to  be  present  at  the  presentation  of  the  flag, 
and  begging  a  few  choice  flowers  for  the  occasion.  Smiling 
quietly,  she  filled  the  accompanying  basket  with  some  of  the 
rarest  treasures  of  the  green-house,  added  a  bowl  of  raspberries 
which  the  gardener  had  just  brought  in,  and  seat  all,  with  a  brief 
line  excusing  herself  from  attending. 

The  morning  was  spent  in  writing  to  her  father,  preparing  a 
parcel  for  him,  and  in  superintending  the  making  of  a  large  quan- 
tity of  blackberry  jelly  and  cordial  for  the  use  of  the  hospitals. 

About  noon  Dr.  Arnold  came,  and  found  her  engaged  in  seal- 
ing up  a  number  of  the  jars,  all  neatly  labelled.  The  day  was 
warm  ;  she  had  pushed  back  her  hair  from  her  brow,  as  she  bent 
over  her  work  ;  the  full  sleeves  were  pinned  up  above  the  elbow, 
and  she  wore  a  white  check-muslin  apron  to  protect  her  dress 
from  the  resin  and  beeswax. 

"  In  the  name  of  Medea  and  her  Colchian  caldron  I  what  are 
you  about,  Irene  V" 

"  Fixing  a  box  of  hospital  stores  for  you  to  take  with  you." 

"  Fixing  I  you  Yankee  1  crucify  that  word  I  I  detest  it.  Say 
arranging,  getting  up,  putting  in  order,  aggregating,  conglomer- 
ating, or  what  you  will,  but  save  my  ears  from  *  fixing  1'  How 
do  I  know  that  all  that  trash  was  n't  boiled  in  a  brass  kettle,  and 
is  not  rank  poison  ?" 


356  MACAEIA  ;   OR, 

"  Because  I  always  use  a  porcelain  kettle,  sir.     Here  is  a 
glass  ;  try  some  of  my  '  trash/     I  am  determined  to  receive  you  . 
*  cordially.'  " 

"  Take  my  advice,  Queen,  and  never  attempt  another  pun  so 
long  as  life  and  reason  are  spared  to  you.  It  is  an  execrable, 
heathenish,  uncivil  practice,  which  should  be  tabooed  in  all  well 
regulated  respectable  families.  As  a  class,  your  punsters  are-  a 
desperate,  vinegar-souled  set.  Old  Samuel  Johnson  treated  the 
world  to  a  remarkably  correct  estimate  of  the  whole  sorry  tribe. 
Just  a  half-glass  more.  You  have  spilled  a  drop  on  your  im- 
maculate apron.  Well,  your  pun  and  your  cordial  are  about  on 
a  par  ;  not  exactly  either — for  one  has  too  much  spice,  and  the 
other  none  at  all." 

*'  Well,  then,  Fadladeen,  I  will  reconsider,  and  send  the  box 
to  a  Kichraond  hospital." 

"  No  ;  give  it  to  me.  The  poor  fellows  who  are  to  use  it 
may  not  be  so  fastidious.  How  much  longer  do  you  intend  to 
sit  here  ?     I  did  not  come  to  make  my  visit  to  the  pantry." 

"  I  have  finished,  sir.  Let  me  wash  my  hands,  and  I  will 
give  you  some  lunch  in  the  dining-room." 

"  No  ;  I  lunched  with  the  Israelites.  Salome  was  brilliant  as 
a  Brazilian  fire-fly,  and  presented  her  banner  quite  gracefully. 
Aubrey  looked  splendidly  in  his  uniform  ;  was  superbly  happy  in 
his  speech — ahvays  is.  Madam  did  the  honors  inimitably,  and, 
in  fine— give  me  that  fan  on  the  table — everything  was  decided- 
ly comme  ilfaut.  You  were  expected,  and  you  ought  to  have 
gone  ;  it  looked  spiteful  to  stay  away.  I  should  absolutely  like 
to  see  you  subjected  to  212*^  Fahrenheit,  in  order  to  mark  the 
result.  Here  I  am  almost  suffocating  with  the  heat,  which 
would  be  respectable  in  Soudan,  and  you  sit  there  bolt  upright, 
looking  as  cool  as  a  west  wind  in  March.  Beauty,  you  should 
get  yourself  patented  as  a  social  refrigerator,  *  Warranted  proof 
against  the  dog-days.'  What  rigmarole  do  you  want  me  to  re- 
peat to  Leonard  ?" 

"  I  have  sent  a  parcel  and  a  letter  to  your  buggy.  Please 
hand  them  to  father,  and  tell  him  that  I  am  well." 

"  And  what  is  to  become  of  my  conscience  in  the  meantime  ?" 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  357 

"  Doctor,  I  might  answer  in  the  words  of  Raphael  to  the  Pre- 
fect of  Alexandria  :  '  What  will  become  of  it  in  any  case,  my 
most  excellent  lord  V  " 

"  Humph,  child  I  I  am  not  such  a  reprobate,  after  all.  But 
I  am  thankful  I  am  not  as  some  pharisees  I  know." 

She  looked  up  in  his  harsh  face  to  read  its  meaning.  He  lean- 
ed forward,  seized  her  hands,  and  said,  hurriedly  : 
'  "  Don't  look  so  much  like  one  of  your  own  pigeons  might,  if 
you  had  coaxed  it  to  come  to  you,  and  then  slapped  it  off.  When 
I  say  bitter  things,  you  may  be  sure  you  are  the  last  person  in 
my  thoughts.  Straighten  that  bent  lip  ;  I  did  not  allude  to 
you,  my  starry  priestess.  I  meant  all  that  noisy  crew  down 
town,  who — ." 

"  Let  them  rest  ;  neither  you  nor  I  have  any  interest  in  them. 
I  wish,  if  you  please,  when  you  get  to  Manassa,  that  you  would 
persuade  father  to  allow  me  to  come,  at  least,  as  far  as  Rich- 
mond. You  have  some  influence  with  him  ;  will  you  use  it  in 
my  favor  V 

"  You  are  better  off  at  home  ;  you  could  possibly  do  no 
good." 

"  Still  I  want  to  go.  Remember,  my  father  is  all  I  have  in 
this  world." 

"  And  what  have  you  elsewhere,  Irene  ?" 

**  My  mother,  my  Saviour,  and  my  God." 

*'  Are  you,  then,  so  very  anxious  to  go  to  Virginia  ?"  he  re- 
peated aftei*  a  pause. 

"  I  am.     I  want  to  be  near  father." 

"  Well,  I  will  see  what  I  can  do  with  him.  If  I  fail,  recol- 
lect that  he  is  not  proverbial  for  pliability.     Look  here are 

you  nervous  ?     Your  fingers  twitch,  and  so  do  your  eyelids  oc- 
casionally, and  your  pulse  is  twenty  beats  too  quick." 

"  I  believe  I  am  rather  nervous  to-day." 

"Why  so?" 

"  I  did  not  sleep  last  night  ;  that  is  one  cause,  I  suppose." 

"  And  the  reason  why  you  did  not  sleep  ?  Be  honest  with 
me." 


358  MAC  ARIA  ;   OR, 

"  My  thoughts,  sir,  were  very  painful.  Do  you  wonder  at  it, 
in  the  present  state  of  the  country  ?" 

"  Irene,  answer  me  one  question,  dear  child  :  what  does  tlie 
future  contain  for  you  ?  What  hope  have  you  ? — what  do  you 
live  for  ?" 

"  I  have  much  to  be  grateful  for — much  that  makes  me  happy; 
and  I  hope  to  do  some  good  in  the  world  while  I  live.  I  want 
to  be  useful — to  feel  that  I  have  gladdened  some  hearflP" 
strengthened  some  desponding  spirits,  carried  balm  to  some 
hearth-stones,  shed  some  happiness  on  the  paths  of  those  who 
walk  near  me  through  life.  There  are  seasons  when  I  regret  my 
incapacity  to  accomplish  more  ;  but  at  such  times,  when  dis- 
posed to  lament  the  limited  sphere  of  woman's  influence,  I  am 
reminded  of  Pascal's  grand  definition  :  '  A  sphere  of  which  the 
centre  is  everywhere,  the  circumference  nowhere  ;'  and  I  feel 
encouraged  to  hope  that,  after  all,  woman's  circle  of  action  will 
prove  as  sublime  and  extended.     Doctor,  remember  : 

"  '        .        .        No  stream  from  its  source 
Flows  seavrard,  how  lonely  soever  its  course, 
But  wliat  some  land  is  gladdened.    No  star  ever  rose 
And  set  without  influence  somewhere.    Who  knows 
What  earth  needs  from  earth's  lowest  creature  ?    Xo  life 
Can  be  pure  in  its  purpose  and  strong  in  its  strife, 
And  all  life  not  be  purer  and  stronger  thereby.'  " 

*'  But  who  pointed  your  aims,  and  taught  you  these  theories  ?" 
"  The  emptiness  of  my  former  life — the  insatiable  yearnings 
for  soUd,  unalloyed  happiness.  I  enjoy  society,  and  cling  to 
many  social  ties  ;  but  these  alone  could  not  content  me.  I 
love  the  world  better,  for  striving  to  be  of  some  little  use  to  it, 
and  I  should  be  pained  to  have  anybody  believe  that  I  have 
grown  misanthropic  or  cynical,  simply  because  I  sometimes  tire 
of  a  round  of  gaiety,  and  endeavor  to  employ  my  time  usefully, 
and  for  the  benefit  of  my  race.  I  felt  the  pressure  of  the  iron 
signet  which  the  Creator  set  to  his  high  commissions  for  life-long 
human  labor,  and,  breaking  the  spell  of  inertia  that  bound  me, 
I  have,  in  part,  my  reward. 

"'....    Get  leave  to  woi'k 

In  this  world,  't  is  the  best  you  get  at  all ; 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  359 

For  God,  in  cursing,  gives  us  better  gifts 

Than  men  in  benediction.     God  says  '  sweat 

For  foreheads ;'  men  say  '  crowns  :'  and  so  we  are  crowned, 

Ay,  gashed  by  some  tormenting  circle  of  steel 

Which  snaps  with  a  secret  spring.     Get  work ;  get  work ; 

Be  sure  't  is  better  than  what  you  work  to  get.' 

God  knows  we  do  little  enough  for  each  other  in  this  whirl  of 
selfishness  and  grasping  after  gain," 

"  Have  you,  then,  fully  resolved  to  remain  single  ?" 

"  Why  do  you  ask  me  that,  Dr.  Arnold  ?" 

"  Because  you  are  dear  to  me,  Queen  ;  and  I  should  like  to 
see  you  happily  married  before  I  am  laid  in  my  grave." 

"  You  will  never  see  it.  Be  sure  I  shall  live  and  die  Irene 
Huntingdon." 

"  What  has  induced  you  to  doom  yourself  to  a ." 

"  Ask  me  no  more,  Doctor.  If  I  am  content  with  my  lot,  who 
else  has  the  right  to  question  ?" 

He  looked  into  that  fair  chiselled  face,  and  wondered  whether 
she  could  be  truly  "  content  ;"  and  the  purity  and  peace  in  her 
deep,  calm  eyes  baffled  him  sorely.  She  rose,  and  laid  her  hand 
on  his  shoulder. 

"Dr.  Arnold,  promise  me  that,  if  there  is  a  battle,  and  father 
should  be  hurt,  you  will  telegraph  me  at  once.  Do  not  hesitate 
— let  me  know  the  truth  immediately.     Will  you  ?" 

"  I  promise." 

"  And  now,  sir,  what  can  I  make  or  have  made  for  you,  which 
will  conduce  to  your  comfort  ?" 

"  Have  you  any  old  linen  left  about  the  house,  that  could  be 
useful  among  the  wounded  ?" 

"I  have  sent  oflf  a  good  deal,  but  have  some  left.  In  what 
form  do  you  want  it  ?     As  lint,  or  bandages  ?" 

"  Neither  ;  pack  it  just  as  it  is,  and  send  it  on  by  express.  I 
can't  carry  the  world  on  my  shoulders." 

"  Anything  else  ?" 

"  Write  to  the  overseer's  wife  to  sow  all  the  mustard-seed  she 
can  lay  her  hands  on,  and  save  all  the  sage  she  can.  And, 
Irene,  be  sure  to  send  me  every  drop  of  honey  you  can  spare. 
That  is  all,  I  believe.   If  I  think  of  anything  else,  I  will  write  you." 


360  MACARIA  ;   OR, 

"  Will  you  take  Cyrus  with  you  ?" 

"  Of  course.  What  guarantee  have  I  that  some  villainous 
stray  shell  or  shot  may  not  ricochet,  and  shave  my  head  off? 
I  shall  take  him  along  to  drag  me  off  the  field,  in  any  such 
emergency  ;  for  if  I  am  not  a  Christian  myself,  I  want  to  be 
buried  by  Christian  people — not  by  those  puritanical  golden-calf 
worshipers,  of  '  higher-law  '  notoriety." 

"  I  trust  that,  in  the  exercise  of  your  professional  duties,  you 
will  be  in  no  danger.     Surgeons  are  rarely  hurt,  I  believe." 

"  Kot  so  sure  of  that.  Spherical-case  or  grape-shot  have  very 
little  respect  for  scientific  proficiency  or  venerable  old  age.  One 
thing  is  certain,  however — if  anything  happens  to  me,  Cyrus 
will  bring  me  home  ;  and  I  want  a  ciuiet  place  near  your  lot  in 
the  cemetery,  where  your  hands,  Queen,  will  sometimes  be  about 
my  grave.  Ah,  child  1  I  have  lived  a  lonely,  savage  sort  of 
tife,  and  spent  little  love  on  the  world,  or  the  people  about  me. 
I  have  had  neither  wife,  nor  children,  nor  sister  in  my  home,  to 
humanize  me  ;  but  you  have  always  had  a  large  share  of  my 
heart,  and  even  Leonard  can  hardly  love  you  better  than  I  do. 
Think  of  me  sometimes.  Queen,  and  write  to  me  freely.  'No  eyes 
but  mine  will  ever  see  your  letters." 

He  stood  with  his  hands  on  her  shoulders,  speaking  falter- 
ingly  ;  and,  unable  to  reply  immediately,  she  turned  her  lips  to 
the  large  brawny  hand  which  had  caressed  her  for  twenty-five 
years. 

Making  a  great  effort,  she  said,  pleadingly  : 

"  Dr.  Arnold,  when  I  pray  for  father,  I  always  include  you  in 
my  petitions.     Do  you  never  intend  to  pray  for  yourself  ?" 

"  I  should  not  know  how  to  begin  now,  my  child." 

"  Words  always  come  with  will.  Postpone  it  no  longer.  Oh, 
Doctor  !  I  beg  of  you  to  begin  at  once." 

Her  lashes  were  heavy  with  unshed  tears,  as  she  looked  up  in 
his  face. 

"  I  have  faith  in  your  prayers.  Queen,  but  not  in  my  own. 
Pray  for  me  always,  dear  child.  God  bless  you  !  my  comfort, 
my  light,  in  a  dark,  troubled  world  of  sin." 

He  stooped,  kissed  her  forehead,  and  hurried  out  to  his  buggy. 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  361 

She  could  not  realize  that  he  would  be  exposed  to  such  immi- 
nent danger  as  many  others — and,  having  concluded  her  packing 
and  despatched  the  box  to  the  depot,  she  wrote  a  few  lines  to  a 
well  known  bookseller,  and  sent  Andrew  to  the  store.  An  hour 
after  he  returned,  bringing  a  package  of  small,  but  elegantly 
bound  Bibles,  From  among  the  number  she  selected  one  of  beau- 
tiful clear  type,  and  taking  it  to  her  room,  locked  herself  iu  to 
escape  all  intrusion. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

The  summer  day  was  near  its  death  when  Col.  Aubrey  rode 
up  the  stately  avenue,  whose  cool  green  arches  were  slowly  fill- 
ing with  shadows.  Fastening  his  spirited  horse  to  the  iron  post, 
he  ascended  the  marble  steps,  and  John  received  his  card,  and 
ushered  him  into  the  front  parlor.  The  rich  lace  curtains  were 
caught  back  from  the  wide  windows  to  admit  the  air,  and  the 
whole  room  was  flooded  with  subtle  intoxicating  perfume,  from 
numerous  elegant  vases  of  rare  flowers,  which  crowned  mantle, 
etagercj  and  centre-table.  On  a  small  'papier-mache  stand 
drawn  before  one  of  the  windows  stood  an  exquisite  cut-glass 
bowl,  fringed  at  the  edge  with  geranium  leaves,  and  filled  with 
perfect  golden-hearted  water-lilies,  whose  snowy  petals  spread 
themselves  regally,  breathing  incense.  The  proud  and  moody 
visitor  regarded  them  a  moment,  then  his  piercing  eye  ran  around 
the  room,  and  rested  upon  a  large  oval  picture  on  the  opposite 
wall.  This  portrait  of  Irene  had  been  painted  soon  after  she  left 
school,  and  represented  only  the  face  and  bust  rising  out  of  a 
luminous  purplish  mist — a  face  which  might  have  served  for 
Guido's  Aurora.  Clad  in  the  handsome  glittering  uniform,  which 
showed  his  nobly-proportioned  and  powerful  figure  so  advantage- 
ously, the  officer  stood,  hat  in  hand,  the  long  sable  plume  droop- 
ing toward  the  floor  ;  and,  as  he  scanned  the  portrait,  his  lips 
moved,  and  these  words  crept  inaudibly,  mutteringly,  over  them  : 


362  MACARIA  ;   OR, 

"  Behold  her  there, 
As  I  beheld  her  ere  she  knew  m}'  heart ; 
My  first,  last  love  ;  the  idol  of  my  youth, 
The  darling  of  my  manhood,  and,  alas  ! 
Now  the  most  blessed  memory  of  mine  age.'' 

The  frown  on  his  face  deepened  almost  to  a  scowl,  indescribably 
Btern  ;  he  turned  abruptly  away,  and  looked  through  the  open 
window  out  upon  the  lawn,  where  flashes  of  sunshine  and  dusky 
shadows  struggled  for  mastery.  Tlie  next  moment  Irene  stood 
at  the  door  ;  he  turned  his  head,  and  they  were  face  to  face  once 
more.  ^ 

Her  dress  was  of  Swiss  muslin,  revealing  her  dazzling  shoul- 
ders and  every  dimple  and  curve  of  her  arms.  The  glittering 
bronze  hair  was  looped  and  fastened  with  blue  ribbons,  and  from 
the  heavy  folds  her  favorite  clematis  bells  hung  quivering  with 
every  motion,  and  matching,  in  depth  of  hue,  the  violets  that 
clustered  on  her  bosom.  The  crystal  calmness  of  the  counten- 
ance was  broken  at  last ;  a  new  strange  light  brimmed  the  un- 
fathomable eyes,  and  broke  in  radiant  ripples  round  the  match- 
less mouth.  On  the  white  brow,  with  its  marble-like  gleam, 
*'  pure  lilies  of  eternal  peace  "  seemed  resting,  as 

"  She  looked  down  on  him  from  the  whole 
Lonely  length  of  a  life.    There  were  sad  nights  and  days, 
There  were  long  months  and  years,  in  that  heart-searching  gaze." 

Xever  had  her  extraordinary  beauty  so  stirred  his  heart  ;  a 
famt  flush  tinged  his  cheek,  but  he  bowed  frigidly,  and  haughtily 
his  words  broke  the  silence. 

*'  You  sent  for  me.  Miss  Huntingdon,  and  I  obeyed  your  com- 
mand.    Kothiug  less  would  have  brought  me  to  your  presence." 

She  crossed  the  room  and  stood  before  him,  holding  out  both 
hands,  while  her  scarlet  lips  fluttered  perceptibly.  Instead  of 
receiving  the  hands  he  drew  back  a  step,  and  crossed  his  arms 
proudly  over  his  chest.  She  raised  her  fascinating  eyes  to  his, 
folded  her  palms  together,  and,  pressing  them  to  her  heart,  said, 
slowly  and  distinctly  : 

"  I  heard  that  you  were  ordered  to  Virginia,  to  the  post  of 
danger  ;  and  knowing  to  what  risks  you  will  be  exposed,  I  wish- 


ALTAKS   OF   SACRIFICE.  363 

ed  to  see  you  at  least  once  more  in  this  world.  Perhaps  the 
step  I  am  taking  may  be  condemned  by  some  as  a  deviation  from 
the  delicacy  of  my  sex — I  trust  I  am  not  wanting  in  proper  ap- 
preciation of  what  is  due  to  my  own  self-respect — but  the  feel- 
ings which  I  have  crushed  back  so  long,  now  demand  utterance, 
llussell,  I  have  determined  to  break  the  seal  of  many  years  si- 
lence— to  roll  away  the  stone  from  the  sepulchre — to  tell  you  all. 
I  feel  that  you  and  I  must  understand  each  other  before  we  part 
for  all  time,  and,  therefore,  I  sent  for  you." 

She  paused,  drooping  her  head,  unable  to  meet  his  searching 
steady  black  eyes  riveted  upon  hers  ;  and,  drawing  his  tall  ath- 
letic figure  to  its  utmost  height,  he  asked,  defiantly  : 

*'  You  sent  for  me  through  compassionate  compunctions,  then 
— intending,  at  the  close,  to  be  magnanimous,  and,  in  lieu  of  dis- 
dain, tell  me  that  you  j^ity  me  ?" 

"  Pity  you  ?     No,  Russell  ;  I  do  not  pity  you." 

"  It  is  well.     I  neither  deserve  nor  desire  it." 

"  What  motive  do  you  suppose  prompted  me  to  send  for  you 
on  the  eve  of  your  departure  I" 

"  I  am  utterly  at  a  loss  to  conjecture.  I  once  thought  you  too 
generous  to  wish  to  inflict  pain  unnecessarily  on  any  one  ;  but 
God  knows  this  interview  is  inexpressibly  painful  to  me." 

A  numbing  suspicion  crossed  her  mind,  blanching  lip  and  cheek 
to  the  hue  of  death,  and  hardening  her  into  the  old  statue-like 
expression.  Had  he,  indeed,  ceased  to  love  her  ?  Had  Salome 
finally  won  her  place  in  his  heart  ?  He  saw,  without  compre- 
hending, the  instantaneous  change  which  swept  over  her  features, 
and  regarded  her  with  mingled  impatience  and  perplexity. 

"  If  such  be  the  truth.  Col.  Aubrey,  the  interview  is  ended." 

He  bowed,  and  turned  partially  away,  but  paused  irresolute, 
chained  by  that  electrical  pale  face,  which  no  man,  woman,  or 
child  ever  looked  at  without  emotion. 

"  Before  we  part,  probably  for  ever,  I  should  like  to  know 
why  you  sent  for  me." 

"  Do  you  remember  that,  one  year  ago  to-night,  we  sat  on  the 
steps  of  the  Factory,  and  you  told  me  of  the  feeling  you  had 
cherished  for  me  from  your  boyhood  ?" 


364:  1LA.CARIA  ;    OR, 

"  It  was  a  meeting  too  fraught  with  paiu  and  mortification  to 

be  soon  forgotten." 

"  I  believe  you  thought  me  cold,  heartless,  and  unfeeling  then  ?" 

"  There  was  no  room  to  doubt  it.  Your  haughty  coldness  car- 
ried its  own  interpretation." 

"  Because  I  knew  that  such  was  the  harsh  opinion  you  had  en- 
tertained for  twelve  months,  I  sought  this  opportunity  to  relieve 
myself  of  an  unjust  imputation.  If  peace  had  been  preserved, 
and  you  had  always  remained  quietly  here,  I  should  never  have 
undeceived  you— for  the  same  imperative  reasons,  the  same  stern 
necessity,  which  kept  me  silent  on  the  night  to  which  I  allude, 
would  have  sealed  my  lips  through  life.  But  all  things  are 
changed  ;  you  are  going  into  the  very  jaws  of  death,  with  what 
result  no  human  foresight  can  predict  ;  and  now,  after  long  suf- 
fering, I  feel  that  I  have  earned  and  may  claim  the  right  to 
speak'to  you  of  that  which  I  have  always  expected  to  bury  with 
me  in  my  grave." 

Again  her  crowned  head  bowed  itself; 

Past  bitterness  and  wounded  pride  were  instantly  forgotten  ; 
hope  kindled  in  his  dark,  stern  face  a  beauty  that  rarely  dwelt 
there,  and,  throwing  down  his  hat,  he  stepped  forward  and  took 
her  folded  hands  in  his  strong  grasp. 

"  Irene,  do  you  intend  me  to  understand — are  you  willing  that 
I  shall  beUeve  that,  after  all,  I  have  an  interest  in  your  heart- 
that  I  am  more  to  you  than  you  ever  before  deigned  to  let  me 
know  ?  If  it,  indeed,  be  so,  oh  !  give  me  the  unmistakable  as- 
surance." 

Her  lips  moved  ;  he  stooped  his  haughty  head  to  catch  the 

low,  fluttering  words. 

"  You  said  that  night  :  '  I  could  forgive  your  father  all  !  all  I 
if  I  knew  that  he  had  not  so  successfully  hardened,  closed  your 
heart  against  me.'  Forgive  him,  Russell.  You  never  can  know  all 
that  yo°u  have  been  to  me  from  my  childhood.  Only  God,  who 
sees  my  heart,  knows  what  suffering  our  long  alienation  has  cost 

me." 

An  instant  he  wavered,  his  strong  frame  quivered,  and  then 
he  caught  her  exultingly  in  his  arms,  resting  her  head  upon  his 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  365 

bosom,  leaninj^  his  swarthy  hot  cheek  on  hers,  cold  and  transpa- 
rent as  ahibaster. 

"  At  hist  I  reahze  tlie  one  dream  of  my  life  I  I  hold  you  to 
my  heart,  acknowlodg-ed  all  my  own  1  Who  shall  dare  dispute 
the  right  your  lips  have  given  me  ?  Hatred  is  powerless  now  ; 
none  shall  come  between  me  and  my  own.  Oh,  Irene  1  my  beau- 
tiful darling  I  not  all  my  ambitious  hopes,  i^t  all  the  future 
holds,  not  time,  nor  eternity,  could  purchase  the  proud,  inexpres- 
sible joy  of  this  assurance.  I  have  toiled  and  struggled,  I  have 
suffered  in  silence  ;  I  have  triumped  and  risen  in  a  world  that 
sometimes  stung  my  fiery  heart  almost  to  madness  ;  and  I  have 
exulted,  I  have  gloried,  in  my  hard-earned  success.  But  ambi- 
tion dims,  and  my  laurels  wither,  in  comparison  with  the  pre- 
cious, priceless  consciousness  of  your  love.  I  said  ambition  shall 
content  mc — sliall  usurp  the  pedestal  where,  long  ago,  I  lifted  a 
fair  girlish  image  ;  but  tlie  old  worship  followed,  haunted  me 
continually.  I  looked  up  from  MS.  speeches  to  find  your  incom- 
parable magnetic  eyes  before  me  ;  and  now,  in  the  midst  of  bit- 
terness nnd  loneliness,  I  have  my  great  reward.  God  bless  you, 
Irene  !'  for  this  one  hour  of  perfect  happiness  in  a  cold  and  joy- 
less life.  If,  when  disappointed  and  baffled  by  your  habitual  po- 
lished reserve,  I  have  said  or  done  harsh,  unjust  things,  which 
wounded  you,  forgive  me — remembering  only  my  love,  and  my 
torturing  dread  that  you  would  become  Bainbridge's  wife.  Oh  ! 
that  was  the  most  horrible  apprehension  that  ever  possessed 
me." 

"  Instead  of  cherishing  your  affection  for  me,  you  struggled 
against  it  with  all  the  energy  of  your  character.  I  have  seen, 
for  some  time,  that  you  were  striving  to  crush  it  out — to  forget 
me  entirely." 

"  I  do  not  deny  it  ;  and  certainly  you  ought  not  to  blame 
me.  You  kept  me  at  a  distance  with  your  chilling,  yet  graceful, 
fascinating  hauteur.  I  had  nothing  to  hope — everything  to  suf- 
fer. I  diligently  set  to  work  to  expel  you  utterly  from  my 
thoughts  ;  and,  I  tell  you  candidly,  I  endeavored  to  love  another, 
who  was  brilliant,  and  witty,  and  universally  admired.  But  her 
fitful,  stormy,  exacting  temperament  was  too  much  like  my  own 


366  MACAEIA  ;   OR, 

to  suit  me.  I  tried  faithfully  to  become  attached  to  her,  iutend- 
ing  to  make  her  my  wife,  but  I  failed  signally.  My  heart  clung 
stubboruly  to  its  old  worship  ;  my  restless,  fiery  spirit  could  find 
no  repose,  no  happiness,  save  iu  the  purity,  the  profound,  marvel- 
lous calm  of  your  nature.  You  became  the  synonyme  of  peace, 
rest  ;  and,  because  you  gave  me  no  friendly  word  or  glance,  lock- 
ing your  passionless  face  against  me,  I  grew  savage  toward  you. 
Did  you  believe  thijt  I  would  marry  Salome  ?" 

"  No  !  I  had  faith  that,  despite  your  angry  efforts,  your 
heart  would  be  true  to  me." 

**  Why  did  you  inflict  so  much  pain  on  us  both,  when  a  word 
would  have  explained  all  ?  When  the  assurance  you  have  given 
me  to-day  would  have  sweetened  the  past  years  of  trial  ?" 

"  Because  I  knew  it  would  not  have  that  effect.  I  am  consti- 
tutionally more  patient  tlian  you,  and  yet,  with  all  my  efforts  to 
be  resigned  to  what  could  not  be  remedied,  and  to  bear  my  sor- 
row with  fortitude,  I  found  myself  disposed  to  repine  ;  and,  be- 
cause I  was  so  sure  of  your  affection  to — 

"  '  Crj  to  the  winds,  oh,  God  !  it  might  have  been.' 

A  belief  of  my  indifference  steeled  you  against  me — nerved  you 
to  endurance.  But  a  knowledge  of  the  truth  would  have  in- 
creased your  acrimony  of  feeling  toward  him  whom  you  regarded 
as  the  chief  obstacle,  and  this,  at  all  hazards,  I  was  resolved  to 
avoid.  Russell,  I  knew  that  our  relations  could  never  be  chang-^ 
ed  ;  that  the  barriers,  for  which  neither  you  nor  I  are  responsi- 
ble in  any  degree,  were  insurmountable  ;  and  that,  in  this  world, 
we  must  walk  widely-diverging  patiis,  exchanging  few  words  of 
sympathy.  Because  I  realized  so  fully  the  necessity  of  estrange- 
ment, I  should  never  have  acquainted  you  with  my  own  feelings, 
had  I  not  known  that  a  long,  and  perhaps  final,  separation  now 
stretches  before  us.  In  the  painful  course  which  duty  imposed  on 
me,  I  have  striven  to  promote  your  ultunate  happiness,  rather 
than  my  own." 

"  Irene,  how  can  you  persuade  yourself  that  it  is  your  duty  to 
obey  an  unjust  and  tyrannical  decree,  which  sacrifices  the  happi- 
ness of  two  to  the  unreasonable  viudictiveaess  of  one  ?" 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  867 

"  Rcmomber  that  you  arc  speaking  of  my  fatljor,  and  do  not 
make  me  reji:ret  that  I  have  seen  yon  in  liis  house." 

'*  You  must  not  expect  of  me  more  forl)earance  tlian  my  na- 
ture is  capable  of.  I  have  lost  too  much  through  his  injustice 
to  bear  my  injuries  coolly.  I  was  never  a  meek  man,  and  strife 
and  trial  have  not  sweetened  my  temper.  If  you  love  me,  and 
the  belief  is  too  precious  to  me  to  be  questioned  now,  I  hold  it 
your  duty  to  me  and  to  your  own  heart  to  give  yourself  to  me, 
to  gild  our  future  with  the  happiness  of  which  the  past  has  been 
cheated.  Your  father  has  no  right  to  bind  your  life  a  sacrifice 
u|)on  the  altar  of  his  implacable  hate  ;  nor  have  you  a  right  to 
doom  yourself  and  me  to  life-long  sorrow,  because  of  an  ancient 
feud,  which  neither  of  us  had  any  agency  in  effecting." 

"  Duty,  because  inflexible  and  involving  great  pain,  is  not 
therefore  less  imperative.  Russell,  have  you  forgotten  Chelo- 
nis  ?" 

lie  tightened  his  clasping  arms,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  Ah,  Irene  I  I  would  willingly  go  into  exile,  with  you  for  my 
Chelonis.  Perish  ambition  1  live  only  such  a  future.  But  yon 
remember  nothing  but  Chelonis'  filial  obligations,  forgetting  all 
she  owed,  and  all  she  nobly  gave,  Cleombrotus.  If  you  would 
lay  your  hands  in  mine,  and  give  me  his  right,  oh  I  what  glory 
would  crown  the  coming  years  !  Irene,  before  it  is  too  late, 
have  mercy  on  us  both." 

She  lifted  her  head  from  his  shoulder,  and  looked  up  pleadingly 
in  his  flushed,  eager  face. 

**  Russell,  do  not  urge  me  ;  it  is  useless.  Sparc  me  the  pain 
of  repeated  refusals,  and  be  satisfied  with  what  I  have  given  you. 
Believe  that  my  heart  is,  and  ever  will  be,  yours  entirely,  though 
my  hand  you  can  never  claim.  I  know  what  I  owe  my  father, 
and  I  will  pay  to  the  last  iota  ;  and  I  know  as  well  what  I  owe 
myself,  and,  therefore,  I  shall  live  true  to  my  first  and  only  love, 
and  die  Irene  Huntingdon.  More  than  this  you  have  no  right 
to  ask — I  no  right  to  grant.  Be  patient,  Russell  ;  be  gener- 
ous." 

"  Patient  !  patient  !     I  am  but  human." 

"  Rise  above  the  human  ;  remember  that,  at  best,  life  is  short, 


368  magaria;  ok, 

and  that  after  a  little  while  eternity  will  stretch  its  holy  circles 
before  our  feet.  Such  is  my  hope.  I  look  down  the  lonely,  si- 
lent vista  of  my  coming  years,  whose  niches  are  filled,  not  with 
joy,  but  quiet  resignation — and  I  see  beyond  the  calm  shores  of 
Rest,  where,  if  faithful  here,  you  and  I  may  clasp  hands  for  ever  1 
To  me  this  is  no  dim,  shadowy,  occasional  comfort,  but  a  fixed, 
firm,  priceless  trust." 

She  felt  the  deep,  rapid  throbbing  of  his  heart,  as  he  held  her 
to  his  bosom  ;  and  a  dark  cloud  of  sorrow  settled  on  his  features, 
while  he  listened  to  her  low,  sweet,  steady  voice.  He  kissed  her 
twice,  and  said,  huskily  : 

"  Do  you  intend  to  send  me  from  you  ?  To  meet  me  hence- 
forth as  a  stranger  ?" 

"  Circumstances,  which  I  can  not  control,  make  it  necessary." 

"  At  least  you  will  let  me  hear  from  you  sometimes  ?  You 
will  give  me  the  privilege  of  writing  to  you  ?" 

"  Impossible,  Russell  ;  do  not  ask  that  of  me." 

"  Oh,  Irene  1  you  are  cruel  !  Why  withhold  that  melancholy 
comfort  from  me  ?" 

"  Simply  for  the  reason  that  it  would  unavoidably  prove  a 
source  of  pain  to  both.  I  judge  you  by  myself.  A  correspond- 
ence would  keep  your  mind  constantly  harassed  on  a  subject 
which  time  will  inevitably  soften,  mellow  ;  and  the  expectation 
of  letters  from  you  would  induce  a  feverish  excitement  and  impa- 
tience in  my  own  heart,  which  I  wish  to  escape.  It  would  foe^l 
useless  regrets,  and  be  productive  only  of  harm.  I  want  neither 
your  usefulness  in  life  nor  mine  impaired  by  continual  weak  re- 
pining. If  I  can  patiently  bear  a  great  sea  of  silence  between 
ns  henceforth,  you  certainly  should  be  stronger  ;  should  appreci- 
ate my  motives,  without  suspecting  any  diminution  of  affection 
on  my  part.  If  your  life  is  spared  I  shall  anxiously  watch  your 
career,  rejoicing  in  all  your  honors,  and  your  noble  use  of  the  tal- 
ents which  God  gave  you  for  the  benefit  of  your  race  and  the 
advancement  of  truth.  Xo  matter  how  the  world  may  deride, 
or  cynics  sneer  at  the  supposition,  I  tell  you  solemnly,  absence 
h.is  no  power  over  a  true  woman's  heart.  Her  affection  will  tri- 
umph over  separation,  over  silence,  over  death  !  over  everything 


ATTARS   OF  SACRIFICE.  369 

but  loss  of  confidence  ;  over  all  but  discovered  unworthiness  in 
its  object.  It  cau  bid  defiance  to  obstacles,  to  adverse  fate,  so 
long  as  trust  remains  intact,  and  resj^ect  is  possible  j  that  you 
will  ever  forfeit  either,  I  entertain  no  fear." 

"  I  am  not  as  noble  as  you  think  me  ;  my  ambition  is  not  as 
unselfish  as  yon  suppose.  Under  your  influence,  other  aims  and 
motives  might  possess  me." 

"  You  mistake  your  nature.  Your  intellect  and  temperament 
stamp  you  one  of  the  few  who  receive  little  impression  from  ex- 
traneous influences  ;  and  it  is  because  of  this  stern  obstinate 
individuality  of  character,  that  I  hope  an  extended  sphere  of 
usefulness  for  you,  if  you  survive  this  war.  Our  country  will  de- 
mand your  services,  and  I  shall  be  proud  and  happy  in  the  knowl- 
edge that  you  are  faithfully  and  conscientiously  discharging  the 
duties  of  a  statesman." 

"  Ah  I  but  the  wages  are  hollow.  My  ambition  has  already 
been  gratified  to  some  extent,  and  in  the  very  flush  of  triumph  I 
sat  down  to  eat  its  fruit,  and  smiled  grimly  over  its  dust  and 
ashes." 

"  Because  self-aggrandizement  was  then  the  sole  aim.  But  a 
holier,  a  mo»c  disinterested,  unselfish  ambition  to  serve  only 
God,  Truth,  and  Country,  will  insure  a  blessed  consciousness  of 
well-spent  years  and  consecrated  talents,  comforting  beyond  all 
else  that  earth  can  give." 

He  shook  his  head  sadly  ;  placing  his  palm  under  her  chin, 
and  tenderly  raising  the  face,  in  order  to  scan  it  fully. 

"  Irene,  oblige  me  in  what  may  seem  a  trifle  ;  unfasten  your 
hair  and  let  it  fall  around  you,  as  I  have  seen  it  once  or  twice  in 
your  life." 

She  took  out  her  comb,  untied  the  ribbons,  and,  passing  her 
fingers  tlirough  the  bands,  shook  them  down  till  they  touched  the 
floor. 

He  passed  his  hand  carelessly  over  the  glossy  waves,  and 
smiled  proudly, 

"  How  ofteu  I  have  longed  to  lay  my  fingers  on  these  rippling 
folds,  as  they  flashed  around  you  so,  or  were  coiled  into  a  crown 
about  your  head.     With  what  glory  they  invest  you  I     Your 

IG* 


370  HACARIA  ;    OR, 

picture  there  upon  the  wall  seems  L'ghted  with  the  golden  gleam. 
Irene,  give  me  a  likeness  of  yourself  as  you  stand  now,  or  if  you 
»  prefer  it,  have  a  smaller  one  photographed  to-morrow  from  that 
portrait,  and  send  it  to  me  by  express.  I  shall  be  detained  in 
Richmond  several  days,  and  it  will  reach  me  safely.  Do  not,  I 
beg  of  you,  refuse  me  this.  It  is  the  only  consolation  I  can  have, 
and  God  knows  it  is  little  enough  !  Oh,  Irene  !  think  of  my 
loneliness,  and  grant  this  last  request." 

His  large  briUiant  eyes  were  full  of  tears,  the  first  she  had  ever 
seen  dim  their  light  ;  and,  moved  by  the  grief  which  so  transformed 
his  lineaments,  she  answered,  hastily  : 

"  Of  course,  if  you  desire  it  so  earnestly,  though  it  were  much 
better  that  you  had  nothing  to  remind  you  of  me." 

"  Will  you  have  it  taken  to-morrow." 

"  Yes." 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  for  some  seconds,  as  if 
striving  to  overcome  some  impulse  ;  then,  turning  quickly  to  him, 
she  wound  her  arms  about  his  neck,  and  drew  his  face  down  to 
hers. 

"  Oh,  Russell  !  Russell  !  I  want  your  promise  that  you  will  so 
live  and  govern  yourself  that,  if  your  soul  is  summoned  from  the 
battle-field,  you  can  confront  Eternity  without  a  single  appre- 
hension. If  you  must  yield  up  your  life  for  freedom,  I  want  the 
assurance  that  you  have  gone  to  your  final  home  at  peace  with 
God  ;  that  you  wait  there  for  me  ;  and  that,  when  my  work  is 
done,  and  I,  too,  lay  my  weary  head  to  rest,  we  shall  meet  soul 
to  soul,  and  spend  a  blessed  eternity  together,  where  strife  and 
separation  are  unknown.  In  the  realization  of  your  ambitious 
dreams,  I  know  that  you  have  given  no  thought  to  these  things  ; 
and  it  was  chiefly  my  anxiety  to  impress  upon  you  their  import- 
ance, their  vital  necessity,  which  induced  me  to  send  for  you. 
Your  hard,  bitter  heart  must  be  softened  ;  you  must  try  to  over- 
come your  vindictiveness  ;  to  cherish  more  charity  and  forgiveness 
toward  some  who  have  thwarted  you.  Sometimes,  in  watching 
your  gloomy,  stern  face,  I  have  almost  despaired  that  you  would 
ever  feel  otherwise;  and  many  a  night  I  have  prayed  fervently 
that  you  might  be  influenced  to  make  some  preparation  for  futu- 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  871 

rlty.  Ob,  Rnssell  I  I  can  be  bravo,  and  stronp^,  and  patient ;  I 
can  bear  to  see  your  dear  face  no  more  in  this  world  ;  I  can  give 
you  up  to  our  country,  and  not  murmur  that  you  died  defending 
l»er  liberties — if  I  have  the  conviction  that,  in  that  noble  death, 
you  found  the  gate  of  heaven— that  I  shall  meet  you  again  whea 
my  God  calls  me  home.  Think  of  this  when  you  leave  me  for  the 
temptations  of  camp-life,  and  go  forth  to  scenes  of  strife  and 
horror.  Think  of  it  by  day  and  night,  striving  to  subdue  your 
heart  in  accordance  with  the  precepts  of  Christ  ;  to  exert  a 
restraining,  purifying  influence  over  your  command  ;  and  remem- 
ber, oh,  remember,  Russell  I  that  this  is  the  only  hope  I  have  to 
cheer  me.  Will  you  promise  to  read  the  Bible  I  give  you  now — 
to  pray  constantly  for  yourself  ?  Will  you  promise  to  meet  me 
beyond  the  grave  ?" 

His  black  locks  lay  upon  her  forehead  as  he  struggled  for 
composure,  and,  after  a  moment,  he  answered,  solemnly  : 

"  I  will  try,  my  darling." 

She  put  into  his  hand  the  Bible,  which  she  had  carefully 
marked,  and  which  bore  on  the  blank  leaf,  in  her  handwriting  : 
"  Colonel  Russell  Aubrey,  with  the  life-long  prayers  of  his  best 

friend." 

The  shadow  fled  from  her  countenance,  which  grew  radiant  as 
some  fleecy  vapor  suddenly  smitten  with  a  blaze  of  sunlight,  and 
clearer  and  sweeter  than  chiming  bells  her  voice  rang  through 

the  room. 

"  Thank  God  !  for  that  promise.  I  shall  lean  my  heart  upon 
it  till  the  last  pulsations  are  stilled  in  my  coffin.  And  now 
I  will  keep  you  no  longer  from  your  regiment.  I  know  that 
you  have  many  dtiities  there  to  claim  your  time.  Turn  your  face 
toward  the  window  ;  I  want  to  loolf  at  it,  to  be  able  to  keep  its 
expression  always  before  me." 

She  put  up  her  waxen  hand,  brushed  the  hair  from  his  pale, 
dome-like  brow,  and  gazed  earnestly  at  the  noble  features,  which 
even  the  most  fastidious  could  find  no  cause  to  cai-p  at. 

"  Of  old,  when  Enrystheus  threatened  Athens,  Macaria,  in 
order  to  save  the  city  and  the  land  from  invasion  and  sub- 
jugation, williugly  devoted  himself  a  sacrifice  upon  the  altar  of 


372  MACAKIA  ;    OR, 

the  gods.  Ah,  Russell  !  that  were  an  easy  task,  in  comparison 
with  the  offering  I  am  called  upon  to  make.  I  can  not,  like 
Macaria,  by  self-immolation,  redeem  my  country  ;  from  that 
great  privilege  I  am  debarred  ;  but  I  yield  up  more  than  she 
ever  possessed.  I  give  my  all  on  earth — my  father  and  your- 
self— to  our  beloved  and  suffering  country.  My  God  I  accept 
the  sacrifice,  and  cro^Ti  the  South  a  sovereign,  independent 
nation  !  Gladly,  unshrinkingly,  would  I  meet  a  death  so  sublime  ; 
but  to  survive  the  loss  of  those  dearer  far  than  my  life,  to  live 
and  endure  such  desolation — oh  !  my  lot,  and  that  of  thousands 
of  my  country-women,  is  infinitely  more  bitter  than  the  fate  of 
Macaria  1" 

She  smothered  a  moan,  and  her  head  sank  on  his  shoulder  ; 
but  lifting  it  instantly,  with  her  fathomless  affection  beaming  in 
her  face,  she  added  : 

"  To  the  mercy  and  guidance  of  Almighty  God  I  commit  you, 
dear  Russell — trusting  all  things  in  His  hands.  May  He  shield 
you  from  suffering,  strengthen  you  in  the  hour  of  trial,  and  re- 
unite us  eternally  in  his  kingdom,  is,  and  ever  shall  be,  my  con- 
stant prayer.  Good-by,  Russell  !  Do  your  duty  nobly  ;  win 
deathless  glory  on  the  battle-field,  in  defence  of  our  sacred  cause  ; 
and  remember  that  your  laurels  will  be  very  precious  to  my 
lonely  heart." 

He  folded  her  in  his  arms,  and  kissed  her  repeatedly  ;  but, 
disengaging  herself,  she  put  him  gently  aside  ;  and,  snatching  up 
his  hat,  he  left  the  room.  He  reached  his  horse,  then  paused, 
and  returned  to  the  parlor. 

The  sun  had  set,  but  waves  of  rich  orange  light  rolled  through 
the  window,  and  broke  over  the  white  figure  kneeling  there, 
half-veiled  by  curling  hair.  The  clasped  hands  were  uplifted, 
and  the  colorless  face  was  thrown  back  in  silent  supplication. 
He  watched  the  wonderful  loveliness  of  face  and  form,  till  his 
pride  was  utterly  melted,  and,  sinking  on  his  knees,  he  threw 
one  arm  around  her  waist,  exclaiming  : 

"  Oh,  Irene  !  you  have  conquered  !  "With  God's  grace  I  will 
so  spend  the  residue  of  my  life  as  to  merit  your  love,  and  the 
hope  of  reunion  beyond  the  gi-ave." 


ALTAIJS   OF   SACRIFICE.  373 

She  laid  her  hand  liglitly  on  his  bowed  head  as  he  knelt  be- 
side her,  and,  in  a  voice  that  knew  no  faltering,  breathed  out  a 
fervent  prayer,  full  of  pathos  and  sublime  faith— invoking  bless- 
ings upon  him  —  life-long  guardianship,  and  final  salvation 
through  Christ.  The  petition  ended,  she  rose,  smiling  through 
the  mist  that  gathered  over  her  eyes,  and  he  said  : 

"  I  came  back  to  ask  something  which  I  feel  that  you  will  not 
refuse  me.  Electra  will  probably  soon  come  home,  and  she  may 
be  left  alone  in  the  world.  Will  you  sometimes  go  to  her  for 
my  sake,  and  give  her  your  friendship  ?" 

"  I  will,  Russell,  for  her  sake,  as  well  as  for  yours.  She  shall 
be  the  only  sister  I  have  ever  known." 

She  drew  his  hand  to  her  lips,  but  he  caught  it  away,  and 
pressed  a  last  kiss  upon  them. 

"  Good-by,  my  own  darling  !  my  life  angel  !" 

She  heard  his  step  across  the  hall  ;  a  moment  after,  the  tramp 
of  his  horse,  as  he  galloped  down  the  avenue,  and  she  knew  that 
the  one  happy  hour  of  her  life  had  passed— that  the  rent  sepulchre 
of  silence  must  be  resealed. 

Pressino-  her  hand  over  her  desolate  heart,  she  murmured  sadly  : 

"  Thy  will,  not  mine,  oh,  Father  !  Give  me  strength  to  do 
my  work  ;  enable  me  to  be  faithful  even  to  the  bitter  end." 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

Strange  heroic  parallelisms  startle  the  grave,  reflecting  student 
of  history,  and  propound  the  inquiry  :  Is  the  Buckle  theory  of 
immutable  cycles  correct  ?  Is  the  throbbing,  surging  world  of 
human  emotions  and  passions  but  a  mere  arithmetical  problem, 
to  be  solved  through  the  erudition  and  astuteness  of  Quetelet  or 
Ilassel,  by  an  infalHble  statistical  rule-of-three  ?  Has  the  relent- 
less Necessity  of  C©mte  erected  its  huge  mill  on  this  continent, 
to  grimly  grind  out  the  annual  quantity  of  patriotism,  tyranny, 
noble  self-abnegation,  or  Machiavelism,  in  the  prescribed  invari- 


374  macaria;  or, 

able   ratio   of  "  Sociology  ?"     Is  it  that  times  make  men  and 
women,  through  dire  necessity  of  iiidiTiclual  or  national  salvation, 
or  will  it  be  urged  that  sublime  records  of  the  past  fire  the  soul 
to  emulation  and  duplication  of  ancient  heroism  ?     Davus  sum 
non  (Edipus.     In  1781,  when  compelled  to  raise  the  siege  of 
Kinety-Six,  it  became  very  important  that  General  Greene  should 
communicate  with  Sumter.     The  intervening  country  was,  how- 
ever, so  filled  with  British  and  Tories,  and  such  dangers  attended 
the  mission,  that  no  one  could  be  found  willmg  to  undertake  it. 
In  this  emergency,  when  even  our  patriots  of  the  first  Revolution 
shrank  back,  Emily  Geiger,  only  eighteen  years  of  age,  volun- 
teered to  make  the  hazardous  attempt,  and  received  from  General 
Gi*eene  a  letter,  and  verbal  messages,  which  he  was  extremely 
desirous  should  reach  their  destination.     Mounting  a  swift  horse, 
she  performed  a  portion  of  the  journey  in  safety  ;  but  was  ulti- 
mately arrested  by  two  Tories,  who  suspected  that  she  might 
be  rendering  important,   though   clandestine,   service    to    ''  the 
rebels."     Swiftly  and  unobserved  she  swallowed  the  written  des- 
patch, and  baffled  in  their  expectation  of  finding  suspicious  docu- 
ments they  allowed  her  to  proceed.     Sumter's  camp  was  safely 
reached,  the  messages  were  deUvered,  General  Greene's  army  was 
reinforced,  and  soon  became  strong  enough  to  assume  the  offen- 
sive.    Rawdon  was  forced  to  retreat,  and  Greene  subsequently 
met  and  vanquished  the  British  army  at  Eutaw  Springs.     Was 
not  Emily  Geiger's  slender  womanly  hand  instrumental  in  pre- 
paring for  that  battle,  the  results  of  which  freed  the  Carolinas  ? 
In  July,  1861,  when  the  Xorth,  blinded  by  avarice  and  hate, 
rang  with  the  cry  of  "  On  to  Richmond,"  our  Confederate  Army 
of  the  Potomac  was  divided  between  Manassa  and  Winchester, 
watching  at  both  points  the  glittering  coils  of  the  Union  boa- 
constrictor,  which  writhed  in  its  efforts  to  crush  the  last  sanctuary 
of  freedom.     The  stringency  evinced  along  the  Federal  lines  pre- 
vented the  transmission   of  despatches  by  the  Secessionists  of 
Maryland,  and  for  a  time   Generals  Beauregard  and  Johnston 
were  kept  in  ignorance  of  the  movements  of  the  enemy.     Patter- 
son  hung  dark  and  lowering  around  Winchester,   threatening 
daily  descent ;  while  the  main  column  of  the  grand  army  under 


ALTAKS   OF   SACRIFICR.  375 

McDowell  proceeded  from  Wasliington,  confident  in   the  expec- 
tation of  overNvlicIming  the  small  army  .stationed  at  Manassa. 
The  friends  of  hbcrty  who  were  compelled  to  remain  in  the  dese- 
crated old  capital  appreciated  the  urgent  necessity  of  acquainting 
General  Beauregard  with  the  designs  of  McDowell,  and  the  arch- 
apostate,  Scott ;  but  all  channels  of  egress  seemed  sealed  ;  all  roads 
leading  across  the  Potomac  were  vigilantly  guarded,  to  keep  the 
great  secret  safely  ;  and  painful  apprehensions  were  indulged  for 
the  fate  of  the  Confederate  army.     But  the  Promethian°  spark 
of  patriotic  devotion  burned  in  the  hearts  of  Secession  women  ; 
and,  resolved  to  dare  all  things  in  a  canse  so  holy,  a  young  lady 
of  Washington,  strong  in  heroic  faith,   offered  to  encounter  any 
perils,  and  pledged  her  life  to  give  General  Beauregard  the 
necessary  information;    Carefully  concealing  a  letter  in°the  twist 
of  her  luxuriant  hair,  which  would  escape  detection  even  should 
•  she  be  searched,  she  disguised  herself  effectually,  and,  under  the 
mask  of  a  market-woman,   drove  a  cart  through  Washington, 
across  the  Potomac,  and  deceived  the  guard  by  selling  vegetables 
and  milk  as  she  proceeded.     Once  beyond  Federal  lines°  and  in 
friendly  neighborhood,  it  was  but  a  few  minutes  work  to"  off  ye 
lendings,"  and  secure  a  horse  and  riding-habit.     With  a  courage 
and  rapidity  which  must  ever  command  the  admiration  of  a  brave 
people,  she  rode  at  hard  gallop  that  burning  July  afternoon  to 
Fairfax  Court-house,  and  telegraphed  to  General  Beauregard, 
then  at  Manassa's  Junction,  the  intelligence,  she  had  risked  so 
much  to  convey.     Availing  himself  promptly  of  the  facts,   he 
flashed  them  along  electric  wires  to  Richmond,  and  to  Gen'cral 
Johnston  ;  and  thus,  through  womanly  devotion,  a  timely  junction 
ofthetwoarmies  was  effected,  ere  McDowelFs  banners  flouted 
the  skies  of  Bull  Run. 

Carthagenian  women  gave  their  black  locks  to  string  their 
country's  bows,  and  furnish  cordage  for  its  shipping  ;  and  the 
glossy  tresses  of  an  American  woman  veiled  a  few  myst'ic  cii)iicrs 
more  potent  in  General  Beauregard's  hands  than  Talmudish 
Shemhamphorash. 

Her  mission  accomplished,  the  dauntless  courier  turned  her 
horse's  head,  and,  doubtless,  with  an  exulting,  thankful  heart 


376  MACAETA  ;    OR, 

returned  in  triumph  to  Washington.  Wlien  our  national  jewels 
are  made  up,  will  not  a  grateful  and  admiring  country  set  her 
name  between  those  of  Beauregard  and  Johnston  in  the  revolu- 
tionary diadem,  and  let  the  three  blaze  tlirough  coming  ages, 
baffling  the  mists  of  time — the  Constellation  of  ]\Ianassa  ?  The 
artillery  duel  of  the  18th  of  July  ended  disastrously  for  the  ad- 
vance guard  of  the  Federals — a  temporary  check  was  given. 

All  things  seemed  in  abeyance  ;  dun,  sulphurous  clouds  of 
smoke  lifted  themselves  from  the  dewy  copse  that  fringed  Ball 
Run,  floating  slowly  to  the  distant  purple  crests  of  the  Blue  Ridge, 
which  gazed  solemnly  down  on  the  wooded  Coliseum,  where  gladia- 
torial hosts  were  soon  to  pour  out  their  blood  in  the  hideous 
orgies  held  by  loathsome  Fanaticism — guarded  by  Federal  bayo- 
nets, and  canopied  by  the  Stars  and  Stripes.  During  the  silent 
watches  of  Saturday  night — 

"  Slowly  comes  a  hungry  people,  as  a  lion  creeping  nigher. 
Glares  at  one  that  nods  and  winks  behind  a  slowly  dying  fire." 

A  pure  Sabbath  morning  kindled  on  the  distant  hill-tops, 
wearing  heavenly  credentials  of  rest  and  sanctity  on  its  pearly 
forehead — credentials  which  the  passions  of  mankind  could  not 
pause  to  recognize  ;  and  with  the  golden  glow  of  summer  sun- 
shine came  the  tramp  of  infantry,  the  clatter  of  cavalry,  the  sul- 
len growl  of  artillery.  Major  Huntingdon  had  been  temporarily 
assigned  to  a  regiment  of  infantry  after  leaving  Richmond,  and 
was  posted  on  the  right  of  General  Beauregard's  lines,  command- 
ing one  of  the  lower  fords.  Two  miles  higlier  up  the  stream,  in 
a  different  brigade.  Colonel  Aubrey's  regiment  guarded  another 
of  the  numerous  crossings.  As  the  day  advanced,  and  the  continu- 
al roar  of  cannon  toward  Stone-Bridge  and  Sudley's  ford  indicated 
that  the  demonstrations  on  McLean's,  Blackford's,  and  ^Mitchell's 
fords,  were  mere  feints  to  hold  our  right  and  centre,  the  truth 
flashed  on  General  Beauregard  that  the  main  column  was  hurled 
against  Evans'  little  band  on  the  extreme  left.  Hour  after  hour 
]jasscd,  and  the  thunder  deepened  on  the  Warrenton  road  ;  then 
the  General  learned,  with  unutterable  chagrin,  that  his  order  for 
an  advance  on  Centreville  had  miscarried,  that  a  brilliant  plan 
had  been  frustrated,  and  that  new  combinations  and  dispositions 


ALTAR8    OF   SACRIFICE. 


377 


must  now  be  resorted  to.  The  regiment  to  which  :Major  ITunting- 
don  was  attached  was  ordered  to  the  support  of  the  left  wing,  and 
reached  the  distant  position  in  an  ahnost  incredibly  short  time, 
while  two  regiments  of  the  brigade  to  which  Colonel  Aubrey  be- 
longed were  sent  forward  to  the  same  point  as  a  reserve. 

Like  incarnations  of  victory,  Beauregard  and  Johnston  swept 
to  the  front  where  the  conflict  was  most  deadly  ;  everywhere,  at 
sight  of  them,  our  thin  ranks  dashed  forward,  and  were  mowed 
down  by  the  fire  of  Rickett's  and  Griffin's  batteries,  which  crown- 
ed the  position  they  were  so  eager  to  regain.     At  half-past  two 
o'clock  the  awful  contest  was  at  its  height  ;  the  rattle  of  musket- 
ry, tlie  ceaseless  whistle  of  riQe  balls,  the  deafening  boom  of 
artillery,  the  hurtling  hail  of  shot,  the  explosion  of  shell,  dense 
volumes'of  smoke  shrouding  the  combatants,  and  clouds  of  du^t 
boiUng  up  on  all  sides,  lent  unutterable  horror  to  a  scene  which, 
to  cold,  dispassionate  observers,  might  have  seemed  sublime.    As 
the  vastly  supt^^ior  numbers  of  the  Federals  forced  our  stubborn 
bands  to  give  back  slowly,  an  order  came  from  General  Beaure- 
gard for  the  right  of  his  line,  except  the  reserves,  to   advance, 
H  and  recover  the  longhand  desperately-disputed  plateau.     With  a 
shout,  the  shattered  lines  sprang  upon  the  foe  and  forced  them 
temporarily  back.     Major,  Huntingdon's  horse  was  shot  under 
him  ;  he  disengaged  himself  .and  marched  on  foot,  waving  his 
sword  and  uttering  words  of  en>:puragement.     He  had  proceeded 
but  a  few  yards  when  a  grape-shot  entered  his  side,  tearing  its 
way  through  his  body,  and  he  fell  where  the  dead  lay  thickest. 
For  a  time  the  enemy  retired,  but  heavy  reinforcements  pressed  in, 
and  they  returned,  reoccupying  the  old  ground.     Not  a  moment 
was  to  be  lost  ;  General  Beauregard  ordered  forward  his  reserves 
for  a  second  effort,  and  with  magnificent  effect,  led  the  charge 
in  person.     Then  Russell  Aubrey  first  came  actively  upon  the 
field.     At  the  word  of  command  he  dashed  forward  with  his 
splendid  regiment,  and,  high  above  all,  towered  his  powerful  form, 
with  the  long  black  plume  of  his  hat  drifting  upon  the  wind  as 
he  led  his  admiring  men. 

As  he  pressed  on,  with  thin  nostril  dilated,  and  eyes  that 
burned  like  those  of  a  tiger  seizing  his  prey,  he  saw,  just  in  his 


378  MACAETA  ;   OR, 

patl),  leaning  on  liis  elbow,  covered  with  blood  and  smeared  with 
dust,  the  crushed,  withering  form  of  his  bitterest  enemy.  His 
horse's  hoofs  were  almost  upon  him  ;  he  reined  him  back  an  in- 
stant, and  glared  down  at  his  old  foe.  It  was  only  for  an  instant ; 
and  as  Major  Huntingdon  looked  on  the  stalwart  figure  and  at 
the  advancing  regiment,  life-long  hatred  and  jealousy  were  for- 
gotten— patriotism  throttled  all  the  past  in  her  grasp — he  feebly 
threw  up  his  hand,  cheered  faintly,  and,  with  his  eyes  on  Russell's, 
smiled  grimly,  saying,  with  evident  difficulty  : 

"  Beat  them  back,  Aubrey  I  Give  them  the  bayonet.'^ 
The  shock  was  awful — be2:2:arin2:  lanfruaire.  On,  on  they 
swept,  while  ceaseless  cheers  mingled  with  the  cannonade  ;  the 
ground  was  recovered,  to  be  captured  no  more.  Tlie  Federals 
were  driven  back  across  the  turnpike,  and  now  dark  masses 
of  reinforcements  debouched  on  the  plain,  and  marched  toward 
our  left.  Was  it  Grouchy  or  Blucher  ?  Some  moments  of  pain- 
ful siispense  ensued,  while  General  Beauregard  strained  his  eyes 
to  decipher  the  advancing  banner.  Red  and  white  and  blue,  cer- 
tainly; but  was  it  the  ensign  of  Despotism  or  of  Lj,V<?rty  ?  Nearer 
and  nearer  came  the  rusliing  column,  and  lo  !,npon  the  breeze 
streamed,  triumj)hant  as  the  Labarum  of  Const  an  tine,  the  Stars' 
and  Bars.  Kirby  Smith  and  Elzey — God  be  praised  !  The 
day  was  won,  and  Victory  nestled  proudly  among  the  folds  of 
our  new-born  banner.  One  more  cligj'ge  along  our  whole  line, 
and  the  hireling  hords  of  oppression  fled,  panic-stricken.  Russell 
had  received  a  painful  wound  frcm  a  minnie  ball,  which  entered 
liis  shoulder  and  ranged  down  toward  the  elbow,  but  he  main- 
tained his  position,  and  led  his  regiment  a  mile  in  the  pursuit. 
When  it  became  evident  that  the  retreat  was  a  complete  rout,  he 
resigned  the  command  to  Lieutenant-Colonel  Blackwell,  and  rode 
back  to  the  battle-field.  Hideous  was  the  spectacle  presented — 
dead  and  dying,  friend  and  foe,  huddled  in  indiscriminate  ruin, 
weltering  in  blood,  and  shivering  in  the  agonies  of  dissolution  ; 
blackened  headless  trunks  and  fragments  of  limbs — ghastly 
sights  and  sounds  of  woe,  filling  the  scene  of  combat.  Such 
were  the  first  fruits  of  the  bigotry  and  fanatical  hate  of  Xew 
England,  aided  by  the  unprincipled  demagogism  of  the  West  ; 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  379 

such  were  llie  wages  of  Abolitionism,  gnitlecl  by  Tjineoln  and 
Seward — the  hitter-day  Sejanus  ;  such  the  results  of  "  higher- 
law,"  canting,  puritanical  hypocrisy. 

Picking  his  way  to  avoid  trampling  the  dead,  Russell  saw  Major 
Jluntingdoui  at  a  little  distance,  trying  to  drag  himself  toward 
a  neighboring  tree.  The  memory  of  his  injuries  crowded  up — 
the  memory  of  all  that:  he  had  endured  and  lost  through  that 
man's  prejudice — the  sorrow  that  might  have  been  averted  from 
his  blind  mother — and  his  vindictive  spirit  rebelled  at  the 
thought  of  rendering  him  aid.  But  as  he  paused  and  struggled 
against  his  better  nature,  Irene's  holy  face,  as  he  saw  it  last, 
lifted  in  prayer  for  him,  rose,  angel-like,  above  all  that  mass  of 
death  and  horrors.  The  sufferer  was  Irene's  father  ;  she  was 
hundreds  of  miles  away;  Russell  set  his  lips  firndy,  and,  riding 
up  to  the  prostrate  figure,  dismonnted.  Exhausted  by  his 
efforts.  Major  Huntingdon  had  fallen  back  in  the  dust,  and  an 
expression  of  intolerable  agony  distorted  his  features  as  Russell 
stooped  over  him,  and  asked  in  a  voice  meant  to  be  gentle  : 

"  Can  I  do  anything  for  you  ?  Could  you  sit  up,  if  I  placed 
you  on  my  horse  ?" 

The  wounded  man  scowled  as  he  recognized  the  voice  and  face, 
and  turned  his  head  partially  away,  muttering  : 

"  What  brought  you  here  ?" 

"  There  has  never  been  any  love  between  us,  Major  Hunting- 
don ;  but  we  are  fighting  in  the  same  cause  for  the  first  time  iu 
our  lives.  You  are  badly  wounded,  and,  as  a  fellow  soldier,  I 
should  be  glad  to  relieve  your  suil'erings,  if  possible.  Once  more, 
for  humanity's  sake,  I  ask,  can  you  ride  my  horse  to  the  rear, 
if  I  assist  jou  to  mount  ?" 

"  No.     But,  for  God's  sake,  give  rae  some  water  !" 

Russell  knelt,  raised  the  head,  and  unbuckling  his  canteen,  put 
it  to  his  lips,  using  his  own  wounded  arm  with  some  difdculty. 
Half  of  the  contents  was  eagerly  swallowed,  aiMl  the  remainder 
Russell  poured  slowly  on  the  gaping,  gliastly  wound  in  his  side. 
The  proud  man  eyed  him  steadily  till  the  last  cool  drop  was  ex- 
hausted, and  said,  sullenly  : 

"  You  owe  me  no  kindness,  Aubrey.      I  hate  you,  and  you 


380  MAC  ARIA  ;   OR, 

know  it.  But  you  have  heaped  coals  of  fire  on  my  head.  You 
are  more  generous  than  I  thought  you.  Thank  you,  Aubrey  ; 
lay  me  under  that  tree  yonder,  and  let  me  die." 

**  I  will  try  to  find  a  surgeon.  Who  belongs  to  your  regi- 
ment ?" 

"  Somebody  whom  I  never  saw  till  last  week.  I  won't  havo 
Lira  hacking  about  me.     Leave  me  in  peace." 

"  Do  you  know  anything  of  your  servant  ?  I  saw  him  as  I 
came  on  the  field." 

"  Poor  William  !  he  followed  me  so  closely  that  he  was  shot 
through  the  head.  He  is  lying  three  hundred  yards  to  the  left, 
yonder.     Poor  fellow  !  he  was  faithful  to  the  last." 

A  tear  dimmed  the  master's  eagle  eye  as  he  muttered,  rather 
than  spoke,  these  words. 

"  Then  I  will  find  Dt.  Arnold  at  once,  and  send  him  to  you." 

It  was  no  easy  matter,  on  that  crowded,  confused  Aceldama, 
aad  the  afternoon  was  well  nigh  spent  before  Russell,  faint  and 
weary,  descried  Dr.  Arnold  busily  using  his  instruments  in  a 
group  of  wounded.  lie  rode  up,  and,  having  procured  a  drink 
of  water  and  refilled  his  canteen,  approached  the  surgeon. 

"  Doctor,  where  is  your  horse  ?     I  wan't  you." 

"  IIo,  Cyrus  I  bring  him  up.  What  is  the  matter,  Aubrey  ? 
You  are  hurt." 

"  Nothing  serious,  I  think.  But  Major  Huntingdon  is  despe- 
rately wounded — mortally,  I  am  afraid.  See  what  you  can  do 
for  him." 

"  You  must  be  mistaken  I  I  have  asked  repeatedly  for  Leo- 
nard, and  they  told  me  he  was  in  hot  pursuit,  and  unhurt.  1 
hope  to  heaven  you  are  mistaken." 

"  Impossible  ;  I  tell  you  I  lifted  him  out  of  a  pool  of  his  own 
blood.     Come  ;  I  will  show  you  the  way." 

At  a  hard  gallop  they  crossed  the  intervening  woods,  and 
without  difficulty  Russell  found  the  spot  where  the  mangled  form 
lay  still.  He  had  swooned,  with  his  face  turned  up  to  the  sky, 
and  the  ghastlincss  of  death  had  settled  on  his  strongly-marked, 
handsome  features. 

"  God  pity  Irene  1"  said  the  doctor,  as  he  bent  down  and  ex- 


ALTARS   OF   8ACKIFICE.  381 

amined  the  horrid  wound,  striving  to  press  the  red  lips  together. 
The  pain  caused  from  handling  him  roused  the  brave  spirit  to 
consciousness,  and  opening  his  eyes  he  looked  around  wonder- 
ingly. 
""  Well,  Ilirani  I  it  is  all  over  with  me,  old  fellow." 
"  I  hope  not,  Leonard  ;  can't  you  turn  a  little,  and  let  me 
feel  for  the  ball  ?" 

"  It  is  of  no  use  ;  I  am  torn  all  to  pieces.  Take  me  out  of 
this  dirt,  on  the  fresh  grass  somewhere." 

"  I  must  first  extract  the  ball.  Aubrey,  can  you  help  me 
raise  him  a  little  ?" 

Administering  some  chloroform,  he  soon  succeeded  in  taking 
out  the  ball,  and,  with  Russell's  assistance,  passed  a  bandage 
round  the  body. 

"  There  is  no  chance  for  me,  Hiram  ;  I  know  that.  I  have 
few  minutes  to  live.     Some  water." 

Russell  put  a  cup  to  his  white  lips,  and  calling  in  the  assist- 
ance of  Cyrus,  who  had  followed  his  master,  they  carried  him 
several  yards  farther,  and  made  him  comfortable,  while  orders 
were  despatched  for  an  ambulance. 

"  It  will  come  after  my  corpse.  Hiram,  see  that  I  am  sent 
home  at  once.  I  don't  want  my  bones  mixed  here  with  other 
people's  ;  and  it  will  be  some  comfort  to  Irene  to  know  that  I 
am  buried  in  sight  of  home.  I  could  not  rest  in  a  ditch  here. 
I  want  to  be  laid  in  my  own  vault.  Will  you  see  to  it  ?" 
"  Yes." 

"  Hiram,  come  nearer,  where  I  can  see  you  better.  Break 
the  news  gently  to  Irene.  Tell  her  I  did  my  duty  ;  that  will 
be  her  only  comfort,  and  best.-  Tell  her  I  fell  in  the  thickest  of 
the  battle,  with  my  face  to  Washington  ;  that  I  died  gloriously, 
as  a  Huntingdon  and  a  soldier  should.  Tell  her  I  sent  her  my 
blessing,  my  love,  and  a  last  kiss." 

He  paused,  and  tears  glided  over  his  wan  cheeks  as  the  pic- 
ture of  his  far-off  home  rose  temptingly  before  him. 

"  She  is  a  brave  child  ;  she  will  bear  it,  for  the  sake  of  the 
cause  I  died  in.  Take  care  of  her,  Arnold  ;  tell  Eric  I  leuvp 
her  to  liis  guardianship.     Harris  has  my  will.     My  poor  lonely 


382  macakia;  or, 

cliild  I  it  is  bitter  to  leave  her.     My  Queen  !  my  golden-haired, 

beautiful  Irene  !" 

.   lie  raised  his  hand  feebly,  and  covered  liis  face. 

"  Don't  let  it  trouble  you,  Leonard.  You  know  how  Hove 
her  ;  I  promise  you  I  will  watch  over  her  as  long  as  I  live." 

"  I  believe  you.  But  if  I  could  see  her  once  more,  to  ask  her 
not  to  remember  my  harshness — long  ago.  You  must  tell  her  for 
me  ;  slie  will  understand.     Oh  !  I — ." 

A  horrible  convulsion  seized  him  at  this  moment,  and  so  intense 
was  the  agony  that  a  groan  burst  through  his  set  teeth,  and 
he  struggled  to  rise.  Russell  knelt  down  and  rested  the  haughty 
head  against  his  shoulder,  wiping  off  the  cold  drops  that  beaded 
the  pallid  brow.  After  a  little  while,  lifting  his  eyes  to  the  face, 
bending  over  him,  Major  Huntingdon  gazed  into  the  melancholy 
black  eyes,  and  said,  almost  in  a  whisper : 

"  I  little  thought  I  should  ever  owe  you  thanks.  Aubrey,  for- 
give me  all  my  hate  ;  you  can  afford  to  do  so  now.  I  am  not  a 
brute  ;  I  know  magnanimity  when  I  see  it.  Perhaps  I  was 
wrong  to  visit  Amy's  sins  on  you  ;  but  I  could  not  forgive  her. 
Aubrey,  it  was  natural  that  I  should  hate  Amy's  son." 

Again  the  spasm  shook  his  lacerated  frame,  and  twenty  min- 
utes after  his  fierce  relentless  spirit  was  released  fl'om  torture; 
the  proud,  ambitious,  dauntless  man  was  with  his  God. 

Dr.  Arnold  closed  the  eyes  with  trembling  fingers,  and  cover- 
ed his  face  with  his  hands  to  hide  the  tears  that  he  could  not 
repress. 

"  A  braver  man  never  died  for  freedom.  He  cheered  me  on 
as  my  regiment  charged  over  the  spot  vrheYo  he  lay,"  said  Rus- 
sell, lookin2:  down  at  the  stiffening:  form. 

"  He  had  his  faults,  like  the  rest  of  us,  and  his  were  stern 
ones  ;  but,  for  all  that,  I  was  attached  to  him.  He  had  some 
princely  traits.  I  would  rather  take  my  place  there  beside  him, 
than  have  to  break  this  to  Irene.  Poor,  desolate  child  I  what 
an  awful  shock  for  her  !  She  loves  him  with  a  devotion  which  I 
have  rarely  seen  equalled.  Grod  only  knows  how  she  will  bear  it. 
If  I  were  not  so  needed  here,  I  would  go  to  her  to-morrow." 

' '  Perhaps  you  can  be  spared." 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  383 

"  No  ;  it  would  not  be  right  to  leave  so  much  suffiTing 
behind." 

lie  turned  to  Cyrus,  and  gave  directions  about  brini^ing  the 
body  into  camp 'to  his  own  tent ;  and  the  two  mounted  and  rode 
slowly  back. 

For  some  moments  silence  reigned  ;  then  Dr.  Arnold  said, 
suddenly  : 

"  I  am  glad  you  were  kind  to  him,  Aubrey.     It  will  be  some 

consolation  to   that  pure   soul  in  W ,  who  has  mourned 

over  and  suffered  for  his  violent  animosity.     It  was  very  gener- 
ous, Russell," 

"  Save  your  commendation  for  a  better  occasion  ;  I  do  not 
merit  it  now.  I  had,  and  have,  as  little  magnanimity  as  my 
old  enemy,  and  what  I  did  was  through  no  generous  oblivion  of 
the  past." 

Glancing  at  him  as  these  words  were  uttered  gloomily,  the 
doctor  noticed  his  faint,  wearied  appearance,  and  led  the  way  to 
his  temporary  hospital. 

"  Come  in,  and  let  me  see  your  arm.  Your  sleeve  is  full  of 
blood." 

An  examination  discovered  a  painful  flesh-wound — the  minnie 
ball  having  glanced  from  the  shoulder  and  passed  out  through 
the  upper  part  of  the  arm.  In  removing  the  coat  to  dress  the 
wound,  the  doctor  exclaimed  : 

"  Here  is  a  bullet-hole  in  the  breast,  which  must  have  just 
missed  your  heart  I     Was  it  a  spent-ball  ?" 

A  peculiar  smile  disclosed  Russell's  faultless  teeth  an  instant, 
but  he  merely  took  the  coat,  laid  it  over  his  uninjured  arm,  and 
answered  : 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself  about  spent-balls— finish  your  job.  I 
must  look  after  my  wounded." 

As  soon  as  the  bandages  were  adjusted  he  walked  away,  and 
took  from  the  inside  pocket  of  the  coat  a  heavy  square  morocco 
case  containing  Irene's  ambrotype.  Wlien  the  coat  was  button- 
ed, as  on  that  day,  it  rested  over  his  heart  ;  and  during  the  sec- 
ond desperate  charge  of  General  Beau  regard's  lines,  Russell  felt 
a  sudden  thump,  and,  above  all  the  roar  of  that  scene  uf  earn- 


384  MACARIA  ;   OR, 

age,  heard  the  shivering  of  the  glass  which  covered  the  likeness.  *" 
The  morocco  was  torn  and  indented,  but  the  ball  was  tnrned 
aside  harmless,  and  now,  as  he  touched  the  spring,  the  fragments 
of  glass  fell  at  his  feet.  It  was  evident  that  his  towering  form 
had  rendered  him  a  conspicuous  target  ;  some  accurate  marks- 
man had  aimed  at  his  heart,  and  the  ambro type-case  had  pre- 
served his  Hfe.  He  looked  at  the  uninjured,  radiant  face  till  a 
mist  dimmed  his  eyes  ;  nobler  aspirations,  purer  aims  possessed 
him,  and,  bending  his  knees,  he  bowed  his  forehead  on  the  case 
and  reverently  thanked  God  for  his  deliverance.  With  a  coun- 
tenance pale  from  physical  suffering,  but  beaming  with  triumph- 
ant joy  for  the  Nation's  first  great  victory,  he  went  out  among 
the  dead  and  dying,  striving  to  relieve  the  wounded,  and  to  find 
the  members  of  his  own  command.  Passing  from  group  to  group, 
he  heard  a  feeble,  fluttering  voice  pronounce  his  name,  and  saw 
one  of  his  men  sitting  against  a  tree,  mortally  wounded  by  a  frag- 
ment of  shell. 

"  Well,  Colonel,  I  followed  that  black  feather  of  yours  as  long 
as  I  could.  I  am  glad  I  had  one  good  chance  at  the  cowardly 
villains  before  I  got  hurt.  We  've  thrashed  them  awfully,  and 
I  am  willing  to  die  now." 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  so  badly  hurt.  Cheer  up,  Martin  ;  I 
will  bring  a  doctor  to  dress  your  leg,  and  we  will  soon  have  you 
on  crutches." 

"  No,  Colonel ;  the  doctor  has  seen  it,  and  says  there  is  no- 
thing to  be  done  for  me.  I  knew  it  before  ;  everybody  feels 
when  death  strikes  them.  Dr.  Arnold  gave  me  something  that 
has  eased  me  of  my  pain,  but  he  can't  save  me.  Colonel,  they 
say  my  captain  is  killed  ;  and,  as  I  may  not  see  any  of  our  com- 
pany boys,  I  wish  you  would  write  to  my  poor  wife,  and  tell  her 
all  about  it.  I  have  n't  treated  her  as  well  as  I  ought ;  but  a 
wife  forgives  everything,  and  she  will  grieve  for  me,  though  I  did 
act  like  a  brute  when  I  was  drinking.  She  will  be  proud  to  know 
that  I  fought  well  for  my  country,  and  died  a  faithful  Confeder- 
ate soldier  ;  and  so  will  my  boy,  my  Philip,  who  wanted  to  come 
with  me.  Tell  Margaret  to  send  him  to  take  my  place  just  as 
soon  as  he  is  old  enough.     The  boy  will  revenge  me  ;  he  has  a 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  385 

noble  spirit.  And,  Colonel,  be  sure  to  tell  her  to  tell  Miss  Irene 
that  I  kept  my  promise  to  her— that  I  have  not  touched  a  drop 
of  liquor  since  the  day  she  talked  to  me  before  I  went  out  to 
build  Mr.  Huntingdon's  gin-house.  God  bless  her  sweet,  pure 
soul  1  I  believe  she  saved  me  from  a  drunkard's  grave,  to  fill 
that  of  a  brave  soldier.  I  know  she  will  never  let  my  Margaret 
suffer,  as  long  as  she  lives." 

"  Is  there  anything  else  I  can  do  for  you,  Martin  ?" 

"  Nothing  else,  unless  I  could  get  a  blanket,  or  something,  t# 
put  under  my  head.     I  am  getting  very  weak." 

"  Leavens,  pick  up  one  of  those  knapsacks  scattered  about, 
and  bring  a  blanket.  I  promise  you,  Martin,  I  will  write  to 
your  wife  ;  and  when  I  go  home,  if  I  outlive  this  war,  I  will  see 
that  she  is  taken  care  of.  I  am  sorry  to  lose  you,  my  brave  fel- 
low. You  were  one  of  the  best  sergeants  in  the  regiment.  But 
remember  that  you  have  helped  to  win  a  great  battle,  and  your 
country  will  not  forget  her  faithful  sons  w^ho  fell  at  Manassa." 

"  Good-by,  Colonel  ;  I  should  like  to  follow  you  to  Washing- 
ton. You  have  been  kind  to  us  all,  and  I  hope  you  will  be 
spared  to  our  regiment.  God  bless  you,  Colonel  Aubrey,  where- 
ever  you  go." 

Russell  changed  him  from  his  constrained  posture  to  a  mora 
comfortable  one,  rested  his  head  on  a  knapsack  and  blanket, 
placed  his  own  canteen  beside  him,  and,  with  a  long,  hard  gripe 
of  hands,  and  faltering  "  God  bless  you  !"  the  soldiers  parted. 
The  day  of  horrors  was  shuddering  to  its  close  ;  glazing  eyes 
were  turned  for  the  last  time  to  the  sun  which  set  in  the  fiery 
West  ;  the  din  and  roar  of  the  pursuit  died  away  in  the  distance  ; 
lowering  clouds  draped  the  sky  ;  the  groans  and  wails  of  the 
wounded  rose  mournfully  on  the  reeking  air  ;  and  night  and  a 
drizzling  rain  came  down  on  the  blanched  corpses  on  the  torn, 
^'•ampled,  crimson  plain  of  Manassa. 

•'  I  hate  the  dreadful  hollow  behind  the  little  wood, 
Its  lips  in  the  field  above  are  dabbled  with  blood-red  heath, 
The  red-ribbed  ledges  drip  with  a  fiilent  horror  of  blood, 
And  Echo  there,  whatever  is  asked  her,  answers  '  Death  !' '' 

But  all  of  intolerable  torture  centred  not  there,  awful  as  was  the 

17 


386  MACARIA  ;   OK, 

scene.  Throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  Confederacy 
telegraphic  despatches  told  that  the  battle  was  raging  ;  and  an 
army  of  women  spent  that  21st  upon  their  knees,  in  agonizing 
prayer  for  husbands  and  sons  who  wrestled  for  their  birth- 
right on  the  far-off  field  of  blood.  Gray-haired  pastors  and 
curly-headed  children  alike  besought  the  God  of  Justice  to  bless 
the  Kight,  to  deliver  our  gallant  band  of  patriots  from  the  inso- 
lent hordes  sent  to  destroy  us  ;  and  to  that  vast  trembling  vol- 
ume of  prayer  which  ascended  from  early  morning  from  the  al- 
tars of  the  South,  God  lent  his  ear,  and  answered. 

The  people  of  W were  subjected  to  painful  suspense  as 

hour  after  hour  crept  by,  and  a  dense  crowd  collected  in  ftont 
of  the  telegraph  office,  whence  floated  an  ominous  red  flag.  An- 
drew waited  on  horseback  to  carry  to  Irene  the  latest  intelli- 
gence, and  during  the  entire  afternoon  she  paced  the  colonnade, 
with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  winding  road.  At  half-past  five 
o'clock  the  solemn  stillness  of  the  sultry  day  was  suddenly  broken 
by  a  wild,  prolonged  shout  from  the  town  ;  cheer  after  cheer  was 
caught  up  by  the  hills,  echoed  among  the  purple  valleys,  and 
finally  lost  in  the  roar  of  the  river.  Andrew  galloped  up  the  av- 
enue with  an  extra,  yet  damp  from  the  printing-press,  containing 
the  joyful  tidings  that  McDowell's  army  had  been  completely 
routed,  and  was  being  pursued  toward  Alexandria.  Meagre  was 
the  account — our  heroes,  Bee  and  Bartow,  had  fallen.  No  oth- 
er details  were  given,  but  the  premonition,  "  Heavy  loss  on  our 
side,"  sent  a  thrill  of  horror  to  every  womanly  heart,  dreading  to 
learn  the  price  of  victory.  Irene's  white  face  flashed  as  she  read 
the  despatch,  and  raising  her  hands,  exclaimed  : 

"  Oh,  thank  God  !  thank  God  !" 

"  Shall  I  go  back  to  the  office  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  I  shall  certainly  get  a  despatch  from  father  sometime 
to-night.  Go  back  and  wait  for  it.  Tell  Mr.  Kogers,  the  oper- 
ator, what  you  came  for,  and  ask  him  I  say  please  to  let  you 
have  it  as  soon  as  it  arrives.  And,  Andrew,  bring  me  any  other 
news  that  may  come  before  my  despatch." 

Tefliously  time  wore  on  ;  the  shadows  on  the  lawn  and  terrace 
grew  longer  and  thinner  ;  the  birds  deserted  the  hedges  j  the 


ALTAHS   OF    SACRIFICE.  387 

pigeons  forsook  the  colonnade  und  steps  ;  Paragon,  tired  of  walk- 
ing after  Irene,  fell  asleep  on  the  rug  ;  and  the  slow,  drowsy 
tinkle  of  cow-bells  died  away  among  the  hills. 

Far  off  to  the  east  the  blue  was  hidden  by  gray  thunderous 
masses  of  rain-cloud,  now  and  then  veined  by  lightning  ;  and  as 
Irene  watched  their  jagged,  grotesque  outlines,  they  took  the 
form  of  battling  hosts.  Cavalry  swept  down  on  the  flanks,  huge 
forms  heaved  along  the  centre,  and  the  lurid  furrows  ploughing 
the  whole  from  time  to  time,  seemed  indeed  death-denling  flashes 
of  artillery.  She  recalled  the  phantom  cloud-battle  in  the  Ne- 
therlandish vision,  and  shuddered  involuntarily  as,  in  imagination, 
she 

"  Heard  the  heavens  fill  with  shouting,  and  there  rained  a  ghastly  dew 
From  the  nations  airy  navies  grappling  in  the  central  blue." 

Gradually  the  distant  storm  drifted  southward,  the  retreat  pass- 
ed the  horizon,  a  red  sunset  faded  in  the  west  ;  rose  and  amber 
and  orange  were  quenched,  and  sober  blue,  with  starry  lights, 
was  over  all.  How  the  serene  regal  beauty  of  that  summer 
night  mocked  the  tumultuous  throbbing,  the  wild  joy,  and  great 
exultation  of  the  national  heart  !  Mother  Earth  industriously 
weaves  and  hangs  about  the  world  her  radiant  lovely  tapestries, 
pitiless  of  man's  wails  and  requiems,  deaf  to  his  paeans.  Irene 
had  earnestly  endeavored  to  commit  her  father  and  Russell  to  the 
merciful  care  and  protection  of  God,  and  to  rest  in  faith,  ban- 
ishing apprehension  ;  but  a  horrible  presentiment,  which  would 
not  "  down"  at  her  bidding,  kept  her  nerves  strung  to  their  ut- 
most tension.  As  the  night  advanced,  her  face  grew  haggard 
and  the  wan  lips  fluttered  ceaselessly.  Russell  she  regarded  as 
already  dead  to  her  in  this  world,  but  for  her  father  she  wrestled 
desperately  in  spirit.  Mrs.  Campbell  joined  her,  uttering  hope- 
ful, encouraging  words,  and  Nellie  came  out,  with  a  cup  of  tea 
on  a  waiter. 

"  Please  drink  your  tea,  just  to  please  me,  Queen.  I  can't 
bear  to  look  at  you.  In  all  your  life  I  never  saw  you  worry  so. 
Do  sit  down  and  rest ;  you  have  walked  fifty  miles  since  moru- 


ing." 


"  Take  it  away,  Nellie.     I  don't  want  it." 


388  MACAEIA  ;   OE, 

*'  But,  child,  it  will  be  time  enough  to  fret  when  you  know 
Mas'  Leonard  is  hurt.  Don't  run  to  meet  trouble  ;  it  will  face 
you  soon  enough.  If  you  won't  take  the  tea,  for  pity's  sake  let 
me  get  you  a  glass  of  wine." 

"  1^0  ;  I  tell  you  I  can't  swallow  anything.  If  you  want  to 
help  me,  pray  for  father." 

She  resumed  her  walk,  with  her  eyes  strained  in  the  direction 
of  the  town. 

Thus  passed  three  more  miserable  hours  ;  then  the  clang  of 
the  iron  gate  at  the  foot  of  the  avenue  fell  on  her  aching  ear  ; 
the  tramp  of  horses'  hoofs  and  roll  of  wheels  came  up  the  gra- 
velled walk. 

"  Bad  news  I  they  are  coming  to  break  it  to  me  1"  said  she 
hoarsely,  and  pressing  her  hands  together,  she  leaned  heavily 
against  one  of  the  guardian  statues  which  had  stood  so  long  before 
the  door,  like  ancient  Ilermae  at  Athens.  Was  the  image,  in- 
deed, prescient  ?  It  tilted  from  its  pedestal,  and  fell  with  a 
crash,  breaking  into  fragments.  The  omen  chilled  her,  and  she 
stood  still,  with  the  light  from  the  hall-lamp  streaming  over  her. 
The  carriage  stopped  ;  Judge  Harris  and  his  wife  came  up  the 
steps,  followed  slowly  by  Andrew,  whose  hat  was  slouched  over 
his  eyes.  As  they  approached,  Irene  put  out  her  hands  wist- 
fully. 

"  We  have  won  a  glorious  victory,  Irene,  but  many  of  our 
noble  soldiers  are  wounded.  I  knew  you  would  be  anxious,  and 
we  came — " 

"  Is  my  father  kUled?" 

"  Your  father  was  wounded.     He  led  a  splended  charge." 

"Wounded  !  ^N^o  !  he  is  killed  !  Andrew,  tell  me  the  truth 
— is  father  dead  ?" 

The  faithful  negro  could  no  longer  repress  his  grief,  and  sobbed 
convulsively,  unable  to  reply. 

"Oh,  my  God  !  I  knew  it  !  I  knew  it  I"  she  gasped. 

The  gleaming  arms  were  thrown  up  despairingly,  and  a  low, 
dreary  cry  wailed  through  the  stately  old  mansion  as  the  orphan 
turned  her  eyes  upon  Nellie  and  Andrew — the  devoted  two  who 
had  petted  her  from  childhood. 


ALTARS    OP   SACRIFICE.  •  389 

Judge  Harris  led  Ikm-  into  the  library,  and   his  weeping  wife 
endeavored  to  oiler  consolation,  but  she  stood  rigid  and  tearless, 
holding  out  her  hand  for  the  despatch.     Finally,  they  gave  it  to 
her,  and  she  read  : 
"  Charles  T.  Harris  : 

"  Huntingdon  was  desperately  wounded  at  three  o'clock  to- 
day, in  making  a  charge.     He  died  two  hours  ago.     I  was  with 

him.     The  body  leaves  to-morrow  for  "W , 

Hiram  Arnold." 

The  paper  fell  from  her  fingers  ;  with  a  dry  sob  she  turned 
from  them,  and  threw  herself  on  the  sofa,  with  her  face  of  woe 
to  the  wall.     So  passed  the  night. 

*  *  *  *  :<c  * 

Four  days  after,  a  number  of  Major  Huntingdon's  friends 
waited  at  the  depot  to  receive  the  body.  The  train  had  been 
detained  ;  it  was  nine  o'clock  at  night  when  the  cars  arrived, 
and  the  coffin  was  placed  in  a  hearse  and  escorted  to  the  Hill. 
By  Judge  Harris'  directions  it  was  carried  into  the  parlor,  and 
placed  on  the  table  draped  for  the  purpose  ;  and  when  arrange- 
ments had  been  made  for  the  funeral  on  the  morrow,  he  dis- 
missed all  but  a  few  who  were  to  remain  durinor  the  ni'-'ht. 

Irene  sat  at  her  window  ui>stairs,  looking  out  upon  the  sombre 
soughing  pines  that  rose  Hke  a  cloud  against  the  starry  sky, 
while  Grace  and  Salome  walked  about  the  room,  crying  spas- 
modically, and  trying  to  utter  something  comforting  to  the  still 
figure,  which  might  have  been  of  ivory  or  granite,  for  any  visi- 
ble sign  of  animation.  After  a  time,  when  the  bustle  had 
ceased,  when  the  carriages  had  withdrawn,  and  the  hurried 
tread  of  many  feet  had  subsided,  Irene  rose,  and  said  : 

"  Grace,  tell  your  father  I  wish  to  see  him." 

Judge  Harris  came  promptly. 

''  I  am  greatly  obliged  to  you  for  all  your  kindness.  Please  take 
the  gentlemen  into  the  dining-room  or  library,  if  you  will  stay, 
and  do  not  allow  any  of  them  to  return  to  the  parlor  ;  I  shall 
sit  there  to-night,  and  need  no  one.'^ 

"Oh,  my  child  I  impossible.  It  would  not  be  proper.  You 
are  not  able." 


390  MACARTA  ;    OE, 

"  I  know  what  I  am  able  to  do,  and  what  I  have  resolved  tc 
do.     Be  good  enough  to  remove  those  g-entlemen  at  once." 

Something  in  her  face  startled  him  ;  perhaps  its  frightful, 
tearless  immobility  ;  and  he  silently  complied. 

When  all  was  quiet,  she  crossed  the  passage,  entered  the 
draped  room,  and  locking  the  door,  was  alone  with  her  dead. 
The  coffin  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  floor,  and  upon  it  lay  the 
sword  and  plumed  hat.  She  looked  down  on  the  lid  where  the 
name  was  inscribed,  and  kissed  the  characters  ;  and,  as  all  her 
isolation  and  orphanage  rushed  upon  her,  she  laid  her  head  on 
the  table,  calling  mournfully  upon  the  manly  sleeper  for  comfort 
and  forgiveness. 

When  morning  broke  fully,  Judge  Harris  knocked  softly  at 
the  door.  No  answer.  He  rapped  loudly,  trying  the  bolt.  All 
within  was  silent  as  the  grave.  He  hurried  around  to  the  green- 
house, threw  up  the  sash,  pushed  open  the  door,  and  entered,  full 
of  undefiuable  alarm.  The  wax  candles  on  tlie  table  and  mantle 
bad  just  expired  ;  the  smoke  from  one  was  still  creeping,  thread- 
like, to  the  ceiling.  A  white  form  knelt  on  the  floor,  with 
clasped  hands  and  bowed  head  resting  against  the  coffin. 

"  Irene  !  Irene  I" 

She  did  not  stir. 

He  looped  back  the  curtains  to  admit  the  light,  and  bending 
down  lifted  the  head.  The  face  was  chill  and  colorless  as  death, 
the  eyes  were  closed,  and  a  slender  stream  of  blood  oozed  slowly 
over  the  lips,  and  dripped  upon  the  linen  shroudings  of  the  table. 
She  had  fainted  from  the  hemorrhage,  and,  taking  her  in  his  arms, 
be  carried  her  up  to  her  own  room. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

"  I  intend  to  trust  you  with  important  despatches.  Miss  Grey 
— for  I  have  great  confidence  in  female  ingenuity,  as  well  as  fe- 
male heroism.     The  meekest  of  women  are  miniature  Granvelles  j 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  391 

nature  made  vou  a  race  of  schemers.  Pardon  rac  if  I  ask,  how 
you  propose  to  conceal  the  despatches  ?  It  is  no  easy  matter 
now  to  run  the  bloclvade  of  a  Southern  port,  especially  on  the 
Gulf  ;  and  you  must  guard  against  being  picked  up  by  the 
Philistines.'' 

**  I  am  fully  aware  of  all  the  risk  attending  my  trip  ;  but  if 
you  will  give  me  the  papers,  prepared  as  I  directed  in  my  note 
from  Paris,  I  will  pledge  my  life  that  they  shall  reach  Richmond 
safely.  If  I  am  captured  and  carried  North,  I  have  friends  who 
will  assist  me  in  procuring  a  passport  to  the  South,  and  little 
delay  will  occur.  If  I  am  searched,  I  can  bid  them  defiance. 
Q'lv  me  the  despatches,  and  I  will  show  you  how  I  intend  to 
take  them." 

Elcctra  opened  her  trunk,  took  out  a  large  port-folio,  and  se- 
lected from  the  drawings  one  in  crayon  representing  the  heads 
of  Michael  Angelo's  Fates.  Spreading  it  out,  face  downward, 
on  the  table,  she  laid  the  closely-written  tissue  paper  of  des- 
patches smoothly  on  the  back  of  the  tliin  pasteboard  ;  then  fitted 
a  square  piece  of  oil-silk  on  the  tissue  missive,  and  having,  with  a 
small  brush,  coated  the  silk  with  paste,  covered  the  whole  with 
a  piece  of  thick  drawing-paper,  the  edges  of  which  were  carefully 
glued  to  those  of  the  pasteboard.  Taking  a  hot  iron  from  the 
grate,  she  passed  it  repeatedly  over  the  paper,  till  all  was 
smooth  and  dry  ;  then  in  the  centre  wrote,  w^ith  a  pencil  : 
"  Michael  Angelo's  Fates,  in  the  Pitti  Palace.  Copied  May  8th, 
1801."  From  a  list  of  figures  in  a  small  note-book  she  added 
the  dimensions  of  the  picture,  and  underneath  all,  a  line  from 
Euripides. 

Her  eyes  sparkled  as  she  bent  over  her  work,  and  at  length, 
lifting  it  for  inspection,  she  exclaimed,  triumphantly  : 

"  There,  sir  !  I  can  baffle  even  the  Paris  detective,  much  less 
the  lynx-eyed  emissaries  of  Lincoln,  Seward  &  Co.  Arc  you 
satisfied  ?     Examine  it  with  your  own  hands." 

"  Perfectly  satisfied,  my  dear  young  lady.  But  suppose  they 
should  seize  your  trunk  ?  Confiscation  is  the  cry  all  over  the 
North." 

•*  Finding  nothing  suspicious  or   '  contraband '  about  me,  ex- 


392  MAOAEIA  ;    OR, 

cept  my  Southern  birth  and  sympathies,  they  would  scarcely  take 
possession  of  the  necessary  tools  of  my  profession.  ■  I  have  no 
fear,  sir  ;  the  i^aper  is  fated  to  reach  its- destination." 

"  Are  your  other  despakihes  sealed  up  pictorially  ?" 

She  laughed  heartily. 

"  Of  course  not.  We  women  are  too  shrewd  to  hazard  all 
upon  one  die." 

"  Well — well  I  You  see  that  we  trust  important  data  to  your 
cunning  fingers.  You  leave  London  to-morrow  for  South- 
ampton ;  will  arrive  just  in  time  for  the  steamer.  Good-by, 
Miss  Grey.  When  J  get  back  to  the  Confederacy  I  shall  cer- 
tainly find  you  out.  I  want  you  to  paint  the  portraits  of  my 
wife  and  children.  From  the  enviable  reputation  you  have  al- 
ready acquired,  I  am  proud  to  claim  you  for  my  countrywoman. 
God  bless  you,  and  lead  you  safely  home.  Good-by,  Mr.  Mitch- 
ell. Take  care  of  her,  and  let  me  hear  from  you  on  your  arri- 
val." 

From  the  hour  when  tidings  of  the  fall  of  Sumter  reach- 
ed Europe,  Electra  had  resolved  to  cut  short  the  studies 
which  she  had  pursued  so  vigorously  since  her  removal  to  Flo- 
rence, and  return  to  the  South.  But  the  tide  of  travel  set  to- 
ward, not  from  European  shores,  and  it  was  not  until  after  re- 
peated attempts  to  find  some  one  homeward-bound,  that  she 
learned  of  Eric  Mitchell's  presence  in  Paris,  and  his  intention  of 

Boon  returning  to  W .     She  wrote  at  once,  requesting  his 

permission  to  place  herself  under  his  care.  It  was  cordially  ac- 
corded ;  and,  bidding  adieu  to  Italy,  she  joined  him  without  de- 
lay, despite  the  pleadin^js  of  Mr.,  Mrs.  Young,  and  Louisa,  w^ho 
had  recently  arrived  at  Florence,  and  sincerely  mourned  a  sepa- 
ration under  such  painful  circumstances. 

Eric  was  detained  in  Paris  by  a  severe  attack  of  the  old  dis- 
ease, but  finally  reached  London — whence,  having  completed 
their  arrangements,  they  set  off  for  Southampton,  and  took  pas- 
sage in  the  Trent,  which  was  destined  subsequently  to  play  a 
prominent  part  in  the  tangled  role  of  Diplomacy,  and  to  furnish 
the  most  utterly  humiliating  of  many  chapters  of  the  j^usillanim- 
ity,  sycophancy,  and  degradation  of  the  Federal  government. 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  393 

The  voyage  proved  pleasant  and  prosperous  ;  and,  once  at 
Havana,  Eric  anxiously  sought  au  oi)portunity  of  testhig  the 
vaunted  eflieiency  of  the  blockade.  Unfortunately,  two  steamers 
had  started  the  week  previous,  one  to  New  Orleans,  the  other  to 
Charleston  ;  only  sailing  vessels  were  to  be  found,  and  about  the 
movements  of  these  impenetrable  mystery  seemed  wrapped. 
On  the  afternoon  of  the  third  day  after  their  arrival,  Eric,  wea- 
ried with  the  morning's  fruitless  inquiry,  was  resting  on  the  sofa 
at  the  hotel,  while  Electra  watched  the  tide  of  passers-by,  when 
Willis,  Eric's  servant,  came  in  quickly,  and  walked  up  to  the 
sofa.  N 

"  Master,  Captain  Wright  is  here.     I  asked  him  to  come  and 
see  you,  and  he  is  waiting  down  stairs." 
"  Captain  Wright  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  the  captain  you  liked  so  much  at  Smyrna — the 
one  who  gave  you  that  pipe,  sir." 

"  Oh,  I  remember  !  Yes— yes  ;  and  he  is  here  ?  Well, 
show  him  up." 

"  Master,  from  the  way  he  watches  the  clouds,  I  believe  he  is 
about  to  run  out.     Maybe  he  can  take  us  ?" 

"  Willis  is  invaluable  to  you,  Mr.  Mitchell,"  said  Electra,  as 
the  negro  left  the  room. 

"  He  is  indeed.  He  is  eyes,  ears,  crutches,  everything  to  me, 
and  never  forgets  anything  or  anybody.  He  has  traveled  over 
half  the  world  with  me— could  desert  me,  and  be  free  at  any  mo- 
ment he  felt  inclined  to  do  so — but  is  as  faithful  now  as  the  day 
on  which  I  first  left  home  with  him." 

"  Ah,  Captain  1  this  is  an  unexpected  pleasure.  I  am  heart- 
ily glad  to  see  you.  Miss  Grey — Captain  Wright.  Take  a 
seat." 

The  captain  looked  about  thirty,  possibly  older  ;  wore  a  gray 
Ruit  and  broad  straw  hat,  and,  when  the  latter  was  tossed  on  the 
floor,  showed  a  handsome,  frank,  beaming  face,  with  large,  clear, 
smiling  blue  eyes,  whose  steady  light  nothing  human  could  dim. 
His  glossy,  red<lish-browu  hair  was  thrust  back  from  a  forehead 
white  and  smooth  as  a  woman's,  but  the  lower  portion  of  the 
face  was  effectually  bronzed  by  exposure  to  the  vicissitudes  of 

17* 


394  MACARIA  ;   OR, 

climate  and  weaflier  ;  and  Electra  noticed  a  peculiar  nei'vons 
restlessness  of  manner,  as  though  he  were  habitually  on  the 
watch. 

"  I  am  astonished  to  see  you  in  Havana,  Mitchell.  Where 
did  you  come  from  ?" 

"  Just  from  Paris,  where  bad  health  drove  me,  after  I  bade 
you  good-by  at  Smyrna.     What  are  you  doing  here  ?" 

"  I  suppose  you  have  heard  of  our  great  victory  at  Manassa  ?" 

"Yes  ;  and  am  rejoiced  beyond  all  expression,  but  feel  anx- 
ious to  see  a  full  Ust  of  our  loss.  I  had  a  brother-in-law  in  that 
engagement." 

"  His  name  ?" 

"  Huntingdon — Major  Huntingdon,  of  W ,  in ." 

"  I  have  seen  no  mention  of  his  name  in  the  papers,  but  our 
loss  in  officers  was  very  heavy.  We  can  ill  afford  to  spare  Bee, 
Bartow,  and  Fisher  ;  and  I  want  the  war  carried  on  till  we  burn 
every  public  building  in  Washington,  and  raise  a  monument 
to  our  dead  on  the  site  of  the  capitol.  We  owe  this  debt  and  we 
must  pay  it." 

"  Have  you  a  vessel  here,  captain  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  have  I  Don't  you  suppose  that  I  would  be  in 
the  army  if  I  could  not  serve  ray  country  better  by  carrying  iu 
arms  and  ammunition  ?  I  have  already  made  two  successful 
trips  vrith  my  schooner — ran  in,  despite  the  blockaders.  ^I 
am  negotiating  for  a  steamer,  but  until  I  can  get  one  ready  I 
intend  to  sail  on." 

''  When  did  you  arrive  here  last?" 

"  About  ten  days  ago.  They  chased  me  for  nearly  fifteen 
miles,  but  I  stole  out  of  sight  before  morning." 

"  When  do  you  expect  to  leave  here  ?" 

The  captain  darted  a  swift,  sea.rching  glance  at  Electra,  rose, 
and  closed  the  door,  saying,  with  a  light  laugh  : 

"  Take  care,  man  !  You  are  not  exactlv  deer-huntin^?  or  crob- 
catching  in  a  free  country  !  Mind  that,  and  talk  softly.  I  am 
watched  here  ;  the  Federal  agents  all  know  me,  and  there  are 
several  Federal  vessels  in  port.  When  do  I  expect  to  leave  ? 
Well,  to-night,  if  the  weather  thickens  up,  as  I  think  it  will, 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICIS.  395 

and  tliore  is  evident  sign  of  a  storm.     Most  sailors  wait  for 
fair  weatl)t'r  ;  we  hlockade-ruiiners  for  foul." 

"  Oil,  Captain  I  do  take  us  with  you  1"  said  Electra,  eagerly. 

"  What  1  III  a  rickety  schooner,  in  the  teeth  of  a  gale  ? 
Besides,  Miss,  I  am  taking  a  cargo  of  powder  this  trip,  and  if  I 
am  hard  pressed  I  shall  blow  up  vessel  and  all,  rather  than  suffer 
it  to  fall  into  Yankee  clutches.  You  would  not  relish  going 
up  to  heaven  after  the  fashion  of  a  rocket,  would  you  ?" 

"  I  am  willing,  sir,  to  risk  everytliiug  you  threaten,  rather  than 
wait  here  indefinitely." 

"  Can't  you  take  us,  Wright — Miss  Grey,  Willis,  and  myself? 
We  are  very  mipatient  to  get  home." 

"  But  I  have  no  accommodation  for  passengers,  I  should 
be  ashamed  to  ask  Miss  Grey  aboard  my  little  egg-shell — every- 
thing is  so  small  and  comfortless.  I  have  not  lost  all  my 
politeness  and  chivalry,  if  I  am  a  rough-looking  Confederate  sailor. 
I  assure  you  I  have  every  disposition  to  oblige  you,  but  really  it 
would  not  be  right  to  subject  a  lady  to  such  a  trip  as  I  may  have 
before  me." 

"  But,  Captain,  if,  with  all  these  facts  staring  me  in  the  face,  I 
appeal  to  your  chivalry,  and  beg  of  you  to  allow  me  to  undergo 
the  hardships  incident  to  the  trip,  in  preference  to  uncertain 
delay  here.  If  I  prefer  to  run  the  gauntlet  in  your  schooner,  you 
surely  will  not  refuse  me  ?" 

"  Really,  Miss,  I  don't  know  what  to  say.  I  thought  I  would 
frighten  you  out  of  the  notion — for,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  am 
always  so  much  more  anxious  when  I  have  ladies'  lives  in  my  hands. 
I  pledge  you  my  word  I  would  sooner  run  afoul  of  a  Federal  frig- 
ate than  see  you  suffer  for  want  of  anything.  I  can't  even  set  a 
table  half  the  time." 

"  But  I  suppose,  sir,  we  could  contrive  to  live  a  few  days 
without  eating  at  a  regular  table.  I  will  take  some  cheese  and 
crackers  and  fruit  along  in  a  basket,  if  that  will  ease  your  mind. 
Do  waive  your  scruples,  and  consent  to  take  charge  of  us." 

"  I  add  my  prayers  to  hers.  Wright,  do  take  us.  We  shall 
not  mind  privations  or  inconvenience." 

**  Well,  then,  understand  distinctly  that,  if  anything  happens, 


390  "    MACAEIA  :    OE 


you  are  not  to  blame  me.  If  the  youni^  Icdy  gets  sea-sick, 
or  freckled,  or  sun-burnt,  or  starved  to  death,  or  blown  up,  or 
drowned,  or,  worse  than  all,  if  the  Yankee  thieves  by  the  way- 
side take  her  as  a  prize,  it  will  be  no  fault  of  mine  whatever,  and 
I  tell  you  now  I  shall  not  lay  it  on  my  conscience." 

*'  *  Raw-head  and  bloody  bones'  never  frightened  me,  even 
when  I  was  a  little  child,  sir  ;  so  you  may  reconcile  yourself  to 
the  prospect  of  having  us  compagnons  de  voyage." 

"  Suppose  a  small  hand-to-hand  fight  forms  a  part  of  the 
programme  ?" 

"  In  that  case,  I  have  a  splendid  brace  of  pistols,  which  were 
given  to  me  before  I  left  Europe." 

"  Do  you  know  how  to  handle  them  ?" 

"  Moderately  well.  I  will  practice  as  we  go  along,  by  making 
a  target  of  one  of  your  small  ropes." 

"  I  see  you  are  incorrigible  ;  and  I  suppose  I  must  let  you  go 
witii  me,  bongre  malgrC," 

"  Bongre  let  it  be,  by  all  means.  I  am  inexpressibly  impatient 
to  get  home." 

<<  Wright,  to  what  part  are  you  bound  ?" 

"  Ah  !  that  is  more  than  I  can  tell  you.  The  winds  must  de- 
cide it.  I  can't  try  the  Carolinas  again  this  trip  ;  they  are  watch- 
ing for  me  too  closely  there.  New  Orleans  is  rather  a  longer  run 
than  I  care  to  make,  and  I  shall  keep  my  eyes  on  Apalachicola 
and  Mobile." 

"  What  object  have  you  in  starting  to-night,  particularly 
in  the  face  of  a  gale  ?" 

Again  the  captain's  eyes  swept  round  the  room,  to  guard 
against  any  doors  that  might  be  ajar. 

"  As  I  told  you  before,  I  am  watched  here.  The  Federals 
have  a  distinguished  regard  for  me,  and  I  have  to  elude  suspi- 
cion, as  well  as  run  well,  when  I  do  get  out.  Two  hours  ago  a 
Federal  armed  steamer,  which  has  been  coaling  here,  weighed 
anchor,  and  has  probably  left  the  harbor,  to  cruise  between  this 
place  and  Key  West.  As  they  passed,  one  of  the  crew  yelled 
out  to  me  that  they  would  wait  outside,  and  catch  me  certainly 
this  time  ;  that  I  had  made  my  last  jaunt  to  Dixie,  etc.     I  have 


ALTARS    OF    SACRTFICR.  397 

carefully  put  out  the  impression  that  I  need  some  repaii^  whicli 
cannot  be  finished  this  week  ;  and  have  told  one  or  two  confi- 
delitiallv,  that  I  could  not  leave  until  the  arrival  of  a  certain 
cargo  from  Nassau,  wluch  is  due  to-morrow.  That  Puritanical 
craft  which  started  off  at  noon  does  not  expect  me  for  several 
days,  and  to-night  I  shall  rub  my  fingers  and  sail  out  right  in 
her  wake.  Ha  I  ha  !  how  they  will  howl.  What  gnashing  of 
teeth  there  will  be,  when  they  hear  of  me  in  a  Confederate  port  ? 
And  now  about  your  baggage.  Have  everthing  ready  ;  I  will 
show  Willis  the  right  wharf,  and  at  dark  he  must  bring  the 
trunks  down  ;  I  will  be  on  the  w^atch,  and  send  a  boat  ashore. 
About  sunset  you  and  Miss  Grey  can  come  aboard,  as  if  for  a 
mere  visit.  I  must  go  and  make  what  little  preparation  I  can 
for  your  comfort." 

Nothing  occurred  to  frustrate  the  plan  ;  Eric  and  Electra 
were  cordially  received,  and  at  dusk  Willis  and  the  baggage 
arrived  punctually.  The  schooner  was  lying  some  distance  from 
the  wharf,  all  sails  down,  and  apparently  contemplating  no 
movement.  With  darkness  came  a  brisk,  stiffening  wind,  and 
clouds  shutting  out  even  dim  star-light.  At  ten  o'clock,  all 
things  being  in  readiness,  the  captain  went  on  deck  ;  very  soon 
after  the  glimmering  lights  of  the  city,  then  the  frowning  walls 
of  Moro,  were  left  behind,  and  the  "  Dixie"  took  her  way  silently 
and  swiftly  seaward. 

About  two  o'clock,  being  unable  to  sleep,  from  the  rocking  of 
the  vessel,  Electra,  knowing  that  Eric  was  still  on  deck,  crept 
up  the  steps  in  the  darkness,  for  the  lights  had  been  extin- 
guished. The  captain  was  passing,  but  paused,  saying,  in  a 
whisper  ; 

"  Is  that  you.  Miss  Grey  ?  Come  this  way,  and  I  will  show 
you  something." 

He  grasped  her  hand,  led  her  to  the  bow,  where  Eric  was  sit- 
ting on  a  coil  of  rope,  and,  pointing  straightforward,  added,  in 
the  same  suppressed  tone  : 

"  Xook  right  ahead — you  see  a  light  ?  ,  The  Philistines  are 
upon  us  !  Look  well,  and  you  will  see  a  dark,  irregular,  n^ov- 
ing  mass  ;  that  is  the  steamer  of  which  I  told  you.      They  have 


398  MACAEIA  ;   OR, 

found  out  ni  Inst  tliat  there  is  going  to  be  all  sorts  of  a  gale,  anci 
as  they  can't  ride  it  like  niv  snug,  dainty  little  egg-shell,  they 
are  putting  back  with  all  possible  speed.  Twenty  minutes  ago 
they  were  bearing  down  on  me  ;  now,  you  see  that  they  will 
pass  to  our  left.  What  a  pity  they  don't  know  their  neigh 
bors  !" 

'*  Do  you  think  that  they  will  not  see  you  ?-' 

"  Certainly  1  with  sails  down,  and  lights  out,  there  is  nothing 
to  be  seen  on  such  a  night  as  this.  There  I  don't  you  hear  her 
paddles  ?" 

*'  No.      I  hear  nothing  but  the  roar  of  the  wind  and  water." 

"  Ah  !  that  is  because  your  ears  are  not  trained  like  mine. 
Great  Neptune  !  how  she  labors  already  !     Now  1  be  silent." 

On  came  the  steamer,  which  Electra's  untrained  eyes,  almost 
blinded  by  spray,  could  barely  discern  ;  and  her  heart  beat  like 
a  muffled  drum  as  it  drew  nearer  and  nearer.  Once  she  heard  a 
low,  chuckling  laugh  of  satisfaction  escape  the  captain  ;  then, 
with  startling  distinctness,  the  ringing  of  a  bell  was  borne  from 
the  steamer's  deck. 

"  Four  bells — two  o'clock.  How  chao-rined  thev  will  be  to- 
morrow,  when  they  find  out  they  passed  me  without  paying  their 
respects  !"  whispered  the  captain. 

Gradually  the  vessel  receded,  the  dark  mass  grew  indistinct, 
tlie  light  flickered,  and  was  soon  lost  to  view,  and  the  sound  of 
the  laboring  machinery  was  drowned  in  the  roar  of  the  waves. 

"  Hurrah  !  for  the  '  Dixie  I'  Strike  a  light  below,  Hutchin- 
son, and  get  some  glasses.  We  must  have  a  little  champagne  in 
honor  of  this  performance.  Come  down.  Miss  Grey,  and  you 
too,  Mitchell  ;  the  water  is  beginning  to  break  very  near  your 
feet.  Oh  1  but  you  must  take  some  wine.  Miss  Grey.  I  can't 
have  you  looking  like  a  ghost  when  I  land  you  on  Confederate 
soil.  People  will  swear  I  starved  you,  and  nothing  humili- 
ates me  half  so  much  as  an  imputation  on  my  hospitality.  Here's 
to  the  Confederacy  !  and  to  our  Beauregard  and  Johnston  I 
God  bless  them  both  !" 

Electra  drank  the  wine  ;  and,  before  he  went  back  on  deck, 
the  captain  made  a  comfortable  place  for  her  on  the  sofa  in  the 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  809 

little  cal)in.  The  storm  increased  nutil  it  blew  a  perfect  Imrri- 
eane,  and  the  scliooner  rolled  and  creaked,  now  and  then  shiver- 
ing in  every  timber.  It  was  utterly  impossible  to  slccj),  and 
Eric,  who  was  suffering  from  a  headache,  passed  a  miserable 
night.  In  the  white  sickly  dawn  the  captain  looked  in  again, 
and  Electra  thought  that  no  ray  of  sunshine  could  be  more  radi- 
ant or  cheering  than  his  joyous,  noble  face. 

"  Good-morning.  I  wonder  if  I  look  as  much  like  a  drenched 
lilY  as  you  do.  Miss  Grey  ?  Doubtless,  much  more  like  a 
drenched  sunflower,  you  think.     Were  you  alarmed  all  night  ?" 

"  No,  sir  ;  I  knew  that  we  were  not  in  the  hands  of  Pa- 
linurus." 

"  Oh  I  thank  you  for  your  confidence  !  I  will  tell  my  wife  of 
that,  if  I  live  to  see  her  again.  I  certainly  did  not  fall  over- 
board, which  was  lucky — for,  though  I  rather  pride  myself  on 
my  proficiency"  as  a  swimmer,  I  am  very  sceptical  concerning  the 
mythologic  three  days  performance.  Mitchell,  I  hope  a  good 
cup  of  hot  coffee  will  set  your  head  straight." 

"  How  is  the  storm  ?    Any  abatement  ?"  asked  Eric. 

"  ^NTot  a  whit  yet  ;  but  the  wind  has  veered  a  little,  and  I 
think  that  by  twelve  o'clock  it  will  break  away." 

"  Captain,  can  I  go  on  deck  for  a  little  while  ?" 

"  Whew  I  My  dear  young  lady,  you  would  not  be  able  to 
catch  your  breath  again  for  a  half-hour.  Yon  could  not  stand  a 
moment  ;  spray  and  wind  would  blind  you,  and  the  waves  would 
take  you  overboard — wash  you  away." 

"But  I  Avant  to  see  a  genuine  violent  storm  at  sea.  I  shall 
probably  never  have  another  opportunity." 

"  I  will  answer  for  the  genuineness  of  this  specimen,  if  you 
really  want  to  look  out.  Wrap  a  shawl  round  your  shoulders  ; 
give  me  your  hand  ;  step  up  ;  look  for  yourself.  No  counter- 
feit—take my  word  for  that.     Squally  enough,  is  n't  it  ?" 

A  wild  howling  waste  of  waters  leaped  and  rolled  like  leaden 
mountains  against  a  wan  drab  skj-,  where  dun  smoke-colorcd 
clouds  trailed  sullenly  before  the  wind.  Foam-crowned  walls 
towered  on  either  side  the  schooner,  leaned  over  as  if  to  meet  and 


400  MACARTA  ;    OR, 

crush  it,  and  broke  in  wreaths  of  spray  about  the  deck,  while 
ghastly  sheet-lightuhig  glimmered  ceaselessly. 

"  Old  Father  Neptune  must  be  in  a  tearing  rage  with  his 
pretty  Amphitrite,  to  churn  up  all  this  commotion.  Don't  you 
think  you  have  seen  enough,  Miss  Grey  ?     You  are  getting  wet." 

He  saw  her  face  flush  and  her  eyes  sparkle  strangely. 

"  If  I  could  only  paint  this  sea  !  If  I  could  only  put  that  roll 
and  sweep  of  waves  yonder  upon  canvas  !  I  could  afford  to  die 
young.  Oh  I  for  the  brush  of  Clarkson  Stanfield  for  one  hour  ! 
to  fix  that  sea — '  where  it  gathers  itself  into  a  huge  billow,  front- 
ing the  blast  like  an  angry  brow,  corrugated  in  agony  and  rage.' 
My  father  was  a  sailor,  and  I  think  I  must  have  inherited  my  love 
of  the  sea  from  him." 

"  Where  is  he  now  ?" 

"  Dead — long  ago — before  I  was  born.  His  ship,  the  '  Elec- 
tra,'  went  down  with  all  on  board." 

"  And  your  mother  ?" 

"  Named  me  for  the  wreck,  and  followed  my  father  when  I 
was  four  months  old." 

As  swirls  of  spray  dashed  in  her  face, 

"Her  eyes  had  looks  like  rarisoned  birds." 

"  Captain,  I  have  read  somewhere  of  a  Dutch  painter  who,  in 
liis  passionate  longing  to  portray  accurately  such  scenes  as  this, 
had  himself  lashed  to  the  deck  of  a  vessel  during  a  terrific  gale, 
where  he  could  study  and  note  the  peculiar  aspects,  so  difficult 
to  render  correctly.  I  am  tempted  to  follow  nis  example.  Doubt- 
less you  could  furnish  a  rope  for  such  a  purpose."  . 

■'  Not  even  a  bit  of  twine.  Come  down  instantly.  Miss  Grey. 
I  can't  afford  the  luxury  of  a  physician  on  board  ;  and  if  you 
should  be  so  unfortunate  as  to  catch  a  catarrh  or  spell  of  pneu- 
monia by  this  piece  of  imprudence,  I  should  be  distressed  to  death, 
and  frightened  out  of  my  wits.     Come  down  at  once." 

About  noon  the  fury  of  the  gale  subsided,  the  sun  looked  out 
through  rifts  in  the  scudding  clouds,  and  toward  night  fields  of 
quiet  blue  were  once  more  visible.  By  next  morning  the  weatlier 
iiad  cleared  up,  with  a  brisk  westerly  wind  ;  but  the  sea  still 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE. 


401 


rolled  heavily  ;  and  Eric,  unable  to  bear  the  motion,  kept  below, 
loth  to  trust  himself  on  his  feet.  Electra  strove  to  while  away 
the  tedious  time  by  reading  aloud  to  him  j  but  many  a  yearning 
look  was  cast  toward  the  deck,  and  finally  she  left  him  with  a 
few  books,  and  ran  up  to  the  open  air. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  third  day  after  leaving  Havana,  she 
was  sitting  on  a  buffalo-robe  stretched  near  the  stern,  watching 
the  waves  and  graceful  curls  of  foam  that  marked  the  schooner's 
path,  and  forgetful  for  a  season  of  the  fifth  volume  of  "  Modern 
Painters,"  which  lay  open  beside  her.  The  wind  had  blown  back 
her  straw  hat,  and  her  short  black  hair  fluttered  about  a  face  fully 
exposed  to  view. 

The  captain  had  been  tuning  a  guitar  for  some  moments,  and 
now  drew  near,  throwing  himself  down  on  the  buffalo-robe. 

"  AVhat  are  you  staring  at  so  solemnly  ?  Tell  me  what  you 
are  thinking  of." 

"  If  you  are  really  curious  you  are  welcome  to  know.  I  was 
only  watching  the  wake  of  the  vessel,  and  thinking  of  that  beau- 
tiful simile  of  Coleridge  in  the  '  Friend  :'  '  Human  experience, 
like  the  stern-lights  of  a  ship  at  sea,  illumines  only  the  path  we 
have  passed  over.' " 

Her  clear  olive  cheeks  burned,  and  her  great  shadowy  elfish 
eyes  kindled  as  was  their  wont  when  her  feelings  were  deeply 
stirred. 

''  I  believe  you  are  an  artist.  Miss  Grey." 

"  I  am  trying  to  become  one,  sir.  Before  we  leave  you,  I  want 
you  to  examine  some  ot'  my  sketches,  and  select  the  one  which  you 
like  best.  It  will  afford  me  great  pleasure  to  paint  it  for  you, 
as  a  feeble  token  of  my  gratitude  and  appreciation  of  your  kind- 
ness." 

"  Thank  you.  I  hope  the  day  is  not  distant  when  I  shall  have 
my  wife  with  me  once  more,  then  I  shall  beg  you  to  paint  her 
portrait  for  me." 

"  Where  is  she  ?" 

**  At  our  home  in  Maryland." 

"  Are  you  a  Marylander,  Captain  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes !  but  that  is  no  place  for  true  men  now.     Nothing 


402  MACARIA  ;   OR, 

can  be  accompllslied  there  at  this  juncture,  and  those  who  are 
true  to  the  Constitution  and  the  South  have  joined  the  Confeder- 
ate service  in  one  form  or  another.  We  shall  have  to  hang  that 
infamous  traitor,  Hicks,  before  we  can  free  the  state  ;  and  it  is 
because  I  appreciate  the  lamentable  scarcity  of  arms  and  ammuni- 
tion, tliat  I  am  engaged  in  my  present  business.  If  I  arm  ten 
thousand  men,  it  will  be  better  for  our  glorious  cause  than  if 
I  handled  a  musket  myself.  Poor,  down-trodden,  hand-cuffed, 
humiliated  Maryland  !  Miss  Grey,  you  have  probably  not  heard 
our  favorite  new  song,  '  Maryland,  my  Maryland  V  I  comfort 
myself  by  singing  it  now  and  then,  while  hundreds  of  miles  of 
stormy  sea  toss  between  me  and  my  home.  Would  you  like  to 
hear  it  ?" 

"  By  all  means.     In  Europe  I,  of  course,  heard  nothing." 
He  struck  a  few  full,  rich  chords,  and  sang  the  stirring  words, 
as  only  a  true  Marylauder  can,  who  feels  all  the  wrongs  and  ig- 
nominy of  his  state. 

His  fine  eyes  were  full  of  tears  as  he  began  the  last  prophetic 
verse  ;  and  when  it  was  concluded,  he  sprang  up  and  repeated, 
triumphantly  : 

"  She  breathes — she  burns  !     Bhe  '11  come  !  she  '11  come  ! 
Maryland  !     My  Maryland  !" 

"  If  such  be  the  feeling  of  her  sons,  Captain,  she  will  soon 
*  gird  her  beauteous  limbs  with  steel,'  and  as  a  state  come  out 
proudly  from  amid  the  Abomination  of  Desolation.  The  music 
is  peculiarly  adapted  to  the  burden  of  the  noble  thoughts,  and 
invests  them  with  extraordinary  power  and  pathos.  The  won- 
derful effect  of  national  lyrics  in  such  stormy  times  as  these,  ex- 
emplifies the  truth  of  the  admirable  remark,  which  I  have  seen 
Tery  felicitously  applied  to  Beranger,  but  which  was  first  quoted, 
I  believe,  by  Fletcher  of  Saltoun  :  '  If  a  man  were  permitted  to 
make  all  the  ballads,  he  need  not  care  who  should  make  the  laws 
of  a  nation.'  Oh  !  what  a  sunset  !  I  never  saw  anything  from 
Fiesole  comparable  to  that." 

The  sun  had  gone  down  below  the  water-fine.  From  the  ze- 
nith, eastward,  the  sky  was  violet-hued  ;  in  the  west,  light  cloud- 


ALTAKS   OF   SACRIFICE.  403 

flake??  liad  fratliorcil  in  fleecy  masses  and  semi-spiral  wliiffs  ;  some 
burued  like  dashes  of  vermilioii  in  lakes  of  beryl  or  chrysoprase, 
others,  in  purple  pomp,  frini^cd  their  edges  with  gold  ;  snowy 
mountain  ranges  were  tipped  with  fire,  pillared  cathedrals  with 
domes  of  silver  ;  and,  beneath  all,  glared  a  liquid  sea  of  rippling 
flame.  A  sky  which  only  Ruskin  could  describe,  or  Turner 
paint. 

"  The  West  is  an  altar,  where  earth  daily  gathers  up  her  gar- 
landed beauty  in  sacrifical  offerings  to  God.  Agamemnon-like, 
she  gives  her  loveliest." 

These  words  seemed  to  pass  the  girl's  lips  unconsciously,  as 
she  leaned  forward  with  hands  clasped  on  her  lap  ;  and  smiling 
at  the  breathless  eagerness  of  her  face,  and  the,  to  him,  incom- 
prehensible enthusiasm  she  evinced,  the  captain  said  : 

"  If  you  are  so  very  fond  of  such  things,  I  wish  you  could  see 
a  midnight  sky  in  the  tropics  as  I  have  seen  it,  sailing  between 
Rio  Janeiro  and  Baltimore.  I  believe  I  have  not  much  senti- 
ment in  my  nature,  but  many  a  night  I  have  lain  awake  on  deck, 
looking  up  at  the  stars  that  glowed,  burned — I  hardly  know  how 
to  express  it — like  great  diamonds  clustered  on  black  velvet. 
Tliere  are  splendid  constellations  there,  which  you  have  never 
seen.  AYhen  we  win  independence  and  peace,  I  intend  to  have 
a  fino  steamship  of  my  own,  and  then  I  shall  ask  you  to  make  a 
voyage  with  me  as  far  as  Uruguay.  I  will  show  you  scenery  in 
Brazil  that  will  put  you  on  your  knees  in  adoration." 

"  I  shall  accept  the  invitation  when  peace  is  made.  Captain 
Wright,  have  you  any  children  ?" 

"  Yes — two  ;  a  son  and  daughter  ;  the  eldest  five  years  old." 

"  Then  train  them  up  to  love  sunsets,  stars,  flowers,  clouds  of 
all  kinds.  We  are  creatures  of  education,  and  I  hold  it  the  im- 
perative duty  of  parents  to  teach  their  children  to  appreciate  tlic 
beautiful  things  in  this  world,  which  God  has  given  to  gild  life 
with.  There  is  grief  and  gloom  enough  at  best  ;  and  so  much 
innocent,  exquisite  joy  may  be  extracted  from  a  thousand  sources, 
that  it  seetns  philosophic,  as  wd\  as  a  sacred  duty,  to  reap  the 
great  harvest  of  haj)piness  which  calls  to  us  from  a  proper  ajv 
preciatiou  of  Beauty.     I  do  not  mean  learned  disquisitions,  or 


404  macakia;  ok, 

tedious,  scientific  terminology.  A  child  can  admire,  love  an  astre' 
or  a  magnolia,  without  understanding  botany  ;  may  wat-ch  for 
and  delight  in  such  a  sky  as  that,  without  classifying  the  clouds, 
or  designating  the  gorgeous  tints  in  genuine  artistic  phraseology; 
may  clap  its  little  hands,  and  shout  with  joy,  in  looking  at  the 
stars,  without  knowing  Orion  from  Ursa  Major.  I  have  often 
been  laughed  at,  and  requested  not  to  talk  nonsense,  when  I  have 
expressed  these  views  ;  have  been  sneered  at  as  an  enthusiast ; 
but  the  longer  I  live  the  more  earnest  becomes  my  conviction  of 
the  truth  of  my  opinion.  The  useful,  the  material  necessities  of 
life,  require  little  study;  our  comfort  involves  attention  to  them  ; 
but  the  more  ideal  sources  of  peace  and  enjoyment  demand  care 
and  cultivation.  I  am  an  orphan  ;  I  had  no  parental  hand  to 
guide  my  thoughts  and  aspirations  to  the  beautiful  in  all  its  pro- 
tean phases  ;  my  life  has  not  been  spent  in  the  most  flowery 
paths  ;  but  because,  as  a  lonely  child,  I  learned  to  derive  plea- 
sure from  communion  with  Nature  and  Art,  I  have  seasons  of 
rapturous  enjoyment  which  all  California  could  not  purchase. 
The  useful,  the  practical,  and  the  beautifal  are  not  opposed — 
are  even  united — if  people  would  only  open  their  eyes  to  the 
truth.  I  am  no  morbid  sentimentalist  or  dreaming  enthusiast  ;  if 
nature  intended  me  for  such,  a  cold  matter-of-fact  world  has  cheat- 
ed me  out  of  my  birthright.  I  live,  sustain  myself  by  my  art, 
as  you  by  your  sailor's  craft  ;  it  feeds  and  clothes  my  Ijody  as 
well  as  my  mind.  But  I  can't  bear  to  walk  through  a  grand 
metropolitan  cathedral  of  wonderful  and  varied  loveliness,  and 
see  the  endless  caravan  of  men  and  women  tramping  along  its 
glorious  aisle,  looking  neither  to  the  right  nor  left,  oblivious 
of  surrounding  splendors,  gazing  stolidly  down  at  the  bag  of 
coins  in  their  hands, -or  the  bales  of  cotton,  or  hogsheads  of  su- 
gar or  tobacco,  they  are  rolling  before  them.  I  long  to  lay  my 
hand  on  then*  shoulders,  to  stay  their  hurrying  steps,  and  whis- 
per, gently  :  '  Fellow-pilgrims,  brothers,  sisters,  look  up  at  the 
glories  that  canopy  you.  Bend  your  knees  one  instant  before 
yonder  shrines  of  Beauty.  Oh  !  aesthetics  is  a  heavenly  ladder, 
where,  like  Jacob's  angels,  pure  thoughts  and  holy  aspirations 
come  from  and  go  to  God.      Whatever  tends  to  elevate  and  en- 


ALTAES    OF   SACRIFICE.  405 

noble  tlie  soul  is  surely  useful  ;  aud  love  of  l)cauty  is  a  mighty 
educational  eugiue,  which  all  may  haudle  if  they  will.  Captain, 
sow  the  seeds  of  appreciation  early  in  your  children's  hearts,  and 
they  will  thank  you  when  you  are  an  old  silver-haired  man." 

Across  that  rosy  sea  tripped  magic  memories.  The  sailor's 
heart  found  its  distant  haven  in  the  joyful,  tender  welcome  of  his 
blue-eyed  wife — the  lisping,  birdish  tone  of  his  fair-browed,  curly- 
headed  children,  stretching  their  little  dimpled  arms  to  clasp  his 
neck  ;  and  to  the  artist-woman  came  melancholy  thoughts  of  by- 
gone years  shrouded  in  crumbling  garlands — of  hopes  and  fever- 
ish aspirations  that  had  found  their  graves — of  her  future  cheer^ 
less  life,  her  lonely  destiny. 

For  some  time  both  were  silent ;  theu  the  captain  roused  him- 
self from  his  dream  of  home,  and,  passing  his  hand  over  his 
eyes,  said  : 

"  Well,  Miss  Grey,  I  shall  place  you  on  Confederate  soil  to- 
morrow, God  \yilling," 

"  Then  you  are  going  to  Mobile  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  I  shall  try  hard  to  get  in  there  early  in  the  morning. 
You  will  know  your  fate  before  many  hours." 

"  Do  you  regard  this  trial  as  particularly  hazardous  ?" 

*'  Of  course  ;  the  blockading  squadrons  grow  more  efficient 
and  expert  every  day,  and  some  daiiger  necessarily  attends  every 
trial.     Mobile  ought  to  be  pretty  well  guarded  by  this  time." 

The  wind  was  favorable,  and  the  schooner  ploughed  its  way 
swiftly  through  the  autumn  night.  The  captain  did  not  close 
his  eyes  ;  and  juat  about  daylight  Electra  and  Eric,  aroused  by 
a  sudden  running  to  and  fro,  rose,  and  simultaneously  made  their 
appearance  on  deck. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Wright  ?" 

"  Matter  !  why,  look  ahead,  my  dear  fellow,  and  see  where  we 
are.  Yonder  is  Sand  Island  light-house,  and  a  little  to  the 
right  is  Fort  Morgan.  But  the  fleet  to  the  left  is  hardly  six 
miles  off,  and  it  will  be  a  tight  race  if  I  get  in." 

There  was  but  a  glimmering  light,  rimming  the  East,  where 
two  or  three  stars  burned  with  indescribable  brilliance  and 
beauty,  and  in  the  gray  haze  and  wreaths  of  mist  which,  curled 


406  MACAKIA  ;   OB, 

over  the  white-capped  waves  Electra  could  distinguish  nothing 
The  air  was  chill,  and  she  said,  with  a  slight  shiver  : 

"  I  can't  see  any  light-house." 

"  There  is,  of  course,  no  light  there,  these  war-times,  but  you 
see  that  tall,  white  tower,  don't  you  ?  There,  look  through  my 
glass.  That  low  dark  object  yonder  is  the  outline  of  the  fort  ; 
you  will  see  it  more  distinctly  after  a  little.  Now,  look  right 
where  my  finger  points  ;  that  is  the  flag-staff.  Look  up  over 
head — I  have  hoisted  our  flag,  and  pretty  soon  it  will  be  a  tar- 
get for  those  dogs.  Ha  1  Mitchell  1  Hutcliinson  !  they  see  us  I 
There  is  some  movement  among  them.  They  are  getting  ready 
to  cut  us  off  this  side  of  the  Swash  channel  !     We  shall  see." 

He  had  crowded  on  all  sail,  and  the  little  vessel  dashed 
through  the  light  fog  as  if  conscious  of  her  danger,  and  resolved 
to  sustain  herself  gallantly.  Day  broke  fully,  sea  and  sky  took 
the  rich  orange  tint  which  only  autumn  mornings  give,  and  in 
this  glow  a  Federal  frigate  and  sloop  slipped  from  their  moor- 
ings, and  bore  down  threateningly  on  the  graceful  bounding 
schooner. 

"  But  for  the  fog,  which  puzzled  me  about  three  o'clock,  •! 
should  have  run  by  unseen,  and  they  would  never  have  known 
it  till  I  was  safe  in  Xavy  cove.  We  will  beat  them,  though, 
as  it  is,  by  about  twenty  minutes.  An  hour  ago  I  was  afraid  I 
should  have  to  beach  her.  Are  you  getting  frightened.  Miss 
Grey  V 

"  Oh,  no  I  I  would  not  have  missed  this  for  any  consideration. 
How  rapidly  the  Federal  vessels  move  1  The^  are  gaining  on 
us." 

Her  curling  hair,  damp  with  mist,  clustered  around  her  fore- 
head ;  she  had  wrapped  a  scarlet  crape  shawl  about  her  shoul- 
ders, and  stood,  with  her  red  lips  apart  and  trembling,  watching 
tiie  exciting  race. 

"  Look  at  the  frigate  !" 

There  was  a  flash  at  her  bow,  a  curl  of  white  smoke  rolled  up, 
then  a  heavy  roar,  and  a  thirty-two  pounder  round  shot  fell  about 
a  hundred  yards  to  the  right  of  the  vessel. 

A  yell  of  defiance  rent  the  air  from  the  crew  of  the  "  Dixie" 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE. 


407 


hats  were  waved — and,  Ruatching  olT  her  sh:uvl,  Elect ra  shook 

its  briglit  foUls  to  the  stiiTeniug  breeze,  while  her  hot  cheeks 
matched  them  in  depth  of  color. 

Another  and  another  shot  was  fired  in  quick  succession,  and 
so  accurate  had  they  become,  that  the  kist  whizzed  through  the 
rigging,  cutting  one  of  the  small  ropes. 

"  Humph  1  they  are  getting  saucy,"  said  the  captain,  looking 
up  coolly,  when  the  yells  of  his  crew  ceased  for  a  moment— and, 
with  a  humorous  twinkle  in  his  fine  eyes,  he  added  : 

"  Better  go  l^elow.  Miss  Grey  ;  they  might  clip  one  of  your 
curls  next  time.  The  vandals  see  you,  I  dare  say,  and  your  red  Hag 
stings  their  Yankee  pride  a  little." 

"  Do  you  suppose  they  can  distinguish  me  ?" 

"  Certainly.  Through  my  glass  I  can  see  the  gunners  at  work, 
and,  of  course,  they  see  yOu.  Should  not  be  surprised  if  they  aimed 
specially  at  you.     That  is  the  style  of  New  England  chivalry." 

Whiz— whiz  ;  both  sloop  and  frigate  were  firing  now  in  good 
earnest,  and  one  shell  exploded  a  few  yards  from  the  side  of  the 
little  vessel,  tossing  the  foam  and  water  over  the  group  on  deck. 

• "  They  think  you  have  hardly  washed  your  face  yet,  Miss 
Grey  ;  and  are  courteously  anxious  to  perform  the  operation  for 
you.  'But  the  game  is  np.  Look  yonder  !  Hurrali  for  Dixie  I 
and  Fort  Morgan  I" 

"  From  the  dim  flag-staff  battery  bellowed  a  gun." 

The  boom  of  a  columbiad  from  the  fort  shook  the  air  like 
thunder,  and  gave  to  the  blockaders  the  unmistakable  assurance, 
"  Thus  far,  and  no  farther." 

The  schooner  strained  on  its  way  ;  a  few  shot  fell  behind,  and 
soon,  under  the  frowning  bastions  of  the  fort,  whence  the  Con- 
federate banner  floated  so  proudly  on  the  balmy  Gulf  breeze, 
spreading  its  free  folds  like  an  aegis,  the  gallant  little  vessel 
passed  up  the  channel*  and  came  to  anchor  in  Mobile  bay,  amid 
the  shouts  of  crew  and  garrison,  and  welcomed  by  a  salute  of 
five  guns'. 


408  MACARIA  ;   OR, 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

Immediately  after  her  arrival  in  Mobile,  Electra  prepared  to 
forward  her  despatches  by  Captain  Wright,  whose  business  called 
him  to  Richmond  before  his  return  to  Cuba  ;  and  an  examination 
of  them  proved  that  the  expedient  resorted  to  was  perfectly 
successful.  By  moistening  the  edges  of  the  drawing-paper,  the 
tissue  missive  was  drawn  out  uninjured,  and,  to  Eric's  surprise, 
she  removed  the  carefully-stitched  blue  silk  which  lined  the  tops 
of  her  traveling  gauntlets,  and  extracted  similar  despatches,  all 
of  winch  were  at  once  transmitted  to  the  seat  of  government. 
While  waiting  for  a  boat,  they  heard  the  painful  tidings  of 
Major  Huntingdon's  death,  which  increased  Eric's  impatience  to 

reach  W .     The  remainder  of  the  journey  was  sad,  and 

four  days  after  leaving  the  Gulf  City  the  lights  of  W and 

roar  of  the  Falls  simultaueously  greeted  the  spent  travelers. 
Having  telegraphed  of  his  safe  arrival,  the  carriage  was  w^aiting 
at  the  depot,  and  Andrew  handed  to  Electra  a  note  from  his 
mistress,  requesting  her  to  come  at  once  to  her  house,  instead  of 
going  to  the  hotel.  Eric  added  earnest  persuasion,  and  with 
some  reluctance,  the  artist  finally  consented.  They  were  pre- 
pared for  the  silent,  solemn  aspect  of  the  house,  and  for  the 
mourning-dress  of  the  orphan,  but  not  for  the  profound  calm,  the 
melancholy,  tearless  composure  with  which  she  received  them. 
Mental  and  physical  suffering  had  sadly  changed  her.  The  oval 
face  was  thinner,  and  her  form  had  lost  its  roundness,  but  the 
countenance  retained  its  singular  loveliness,  and  the  mesmeric 
splendor  of  the  large  eyes  seemed  enhanced.  Of  her  father  she 
did  not  speak,  but  gave  her  uncle  a  written  statement  of  all  the 
facts  which  she  had  been  able  to  gather  concerning  the  circum- 
stances of  his  death  ;  and  thus  a  tacit  compact  was  formed  to 
make  no  reference  to  the  painful  subject. 

As  she  accompanied  Electra  to  the  room  prepared  for  her,  on 
the  night  of  her  arrival,  the  latter  asked,  with  ill-concealed 
emotion : 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  409 

"  Irene,  can  you  tell  me  anything  about  Russell  ?  I  am  very 
anxious  to  hear  something  of  him." 

Irene  placed  the  silver  lamp  on  the  table,  and  standing  in  its 
glow,  answered,  quietly  : 

"  He  was  wounded  in  the  arm  at  Manassa,  but  retains 
command  of  his  regiment,  and  is  doing  very  well.  Dr.  Arnold 
is  the  regimental  surgeon,  and  in  one  of  his  letters  to  me  he 
mentioned  that  your  cousin's  wound  was  not  serious." 

"I  am  going  to  him  immediately." 

"  Unfortunately,  you  will  not  be  allowed  to  do  so.  The 
wounded  were  removed  to  Richmond  as  promptly  as  possible, 
but  your  cousin  remained  at  Manassa,  where  ladies  are  not  per- 
mitted." 

"  Then  I  will  write  to  him  to  meet  me  in  Richmond." 

Irene  made  no  reply,  and,  watching  her  all  the  while,  Electra, 
asked  : 

"  When  did  you  see  him  last  ?     How  did  he  look  ?" 

"  The  day  before  he  started  to  Richmond.  He  was  very  well, 
I  believe,  but  looked  harassed  and  paler  than  usual.  He  is  so 
robust,  however,  that  I  think  you  need  entertain  no  apprehension 
concerning  his  health." 

The  inflexible  features,  the  low,  clear,  firm  voice  were  puzzling, 
and  Electra's  brow  thickened  and  darkened  as  she  thought  : . 

"  Her  father  is  dead  now  ;  there  is  no  obstacle  remaining. 
She  must  love  him,  and  yet  she  gives  no  sign  of  interest." 

"  Good-night,  Electra  ;  I  hope  you  will  sleep  well  after  your 
fatiguing  journey.  Do  not  get  up  early.  I  will  send  your 
breakfast  to  your  room,  whenever  you  wish  it." 

She  turned  away,  but  the  artist  stepped  before  her  and  caught 
up  both  her  hands. 

"  Oh,  Irene  !  it  grieves  rae  to  see  you  looking  so.  Talk  to 
me  about  your  great  pent-up  sorrows,  and  it  will  relieve  you." 

"  My  sorrows  cannot  be  talked  away." 

"  Grave^s  never  give  back  their  dead.  Good-night,  my  deaf 
Electra." 

Electra  looked  at  her  vsadly,  wistfully  ;  and,  suddenly  throw- 
ing her  arms  about  the  queenly  figure,  kissec^  her  white,  cold 

18 


4:10  MACARIA  ;    OB, 

cheek.  Irene  returned  the  caress,  withdrew  from  the  embrace, 
and  passed  to  her  own  room. 

Jealous  women  are  rarely  generous  toward  their  rivals,  and 
Electra's  exacting,  moody  character  rendered  it  peculiarly  diffi- 
cult for  her  to  stifle  her  feelings.  She  would  most  certainly  have 
cordially  hated  any  other  woman  who  stod^  between  her  and  her 
cousin's  heart  ;  but  before  the  nobility,  the  loftiness,  the  cool 
purity  of  Irene's  soul,  her  own  restless  spirit,  bowed  down  with 
emotions  nearly  akin  to  adoration.  The  solemn  serenity  of  that 
pale  brow  awed  and  soothed  the  fevered,  tumultuous  nature  of 
the  artist  ;  and  she  had  schooled  herself  to  look  upon  her  as 
Russell's  future  wife — with  a  pang  of  pain,  it  is  true,  but  certainly 
with  no  touch  of  bitterness.  She  could  endure  that  he  should 
love  so  devotedly  one  who  ministered  at  the  shrine  of  Christian 
charity,  and  whose  hands  threw  down,  wherever  she  moved,  the 
blessed  largess  of  peace,  contentment,  and  plenty.  They  stood 
in  strange  relationship,  these  two  women.  One  ignorant  of  the 
absorbing  love  of  the  other  for  the  man  to  whom  she  had  given 
her  heart  long  years  ago  ;  and  that  other  conscious  of  an  undy- 
ing aJBfection,  which  she  silently  inurued  in  her  own  bosom. 

Two  days  later,  they  sat  together  before  one  of  the  parlor 
windows.  Electra  was  engaged  in  tearing  off  and  rolling  band- 
ages, while  Irene  slowly  scraped  lint  from  a  quantity  of  old  linen, 
which  filled  a  basket  at  her  side.  Neither  had  spoken  for  some 
time  ;  the  sadness  of  their  occupation  called  up  gloomy  thoughts; 
but  finally  Electra  laid  down  a  roll  of  cloth,  and,  interlacing  her 
slight  fingers,  said  : 

*'  Irene,  as  you  sit  there  you  remind  me  of  the  '  Cameo 
Bracelet?     You  have  seen  it,  of  course  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  it  is  one  of  the  finest  imaginative  creations  I  have 
ever  read  ;  and  I  can  not  divest  myself  of  the  apprehension  that, 
it  adumbrates  the  fate  of  Xew  Orleans." 

Electra  watched  the  motion  of  her  companion's  fingers,  and  in 

a  rich,  musical  voice  repeated  the  words,  beginning  : 

"  She's  sifting  lint  for  the  brave  who  bled, 
And  I  watch  her  fingers  float  and  flow, 
Over  the  linen,  as,  thread  by  thread, 
It  flakes  to  her  lap  like  snow." 


ALTAliS   OF   SACRIFICE.  411 

"  Irene,  the  women  of  the  South  must  exercise  an  important 
influence  in  determining  our  national  destiny  ;  and  because  I  felt 
this  so  fully,  I  hurried  home  to  share  the  perils,  and  privations, 
and  trials  of  my  countrywomen.  It  seems  to  me  that  no  true 
son  or  daughter  can  linger  in  Europe  now,  with  the  broad  ocean 
surging  between  them  and  the  bloody  soil  of  tlieir  native  land.  It 
is  not  my  privilege  to  enter  the  army,  and  wield  a  sword  or  mus- 
ket ;  but  I  am  going  to  true  womanly  work — into  the  crowded 
hospitals,  to  watch  faithfully  over  sick  and  wounded." 

"  I  approve  your  plan,  think  it  your  duty,  and  wish  that  I  could 
start  to  Richmond  with  you  to-morrow — for  I  believe  that  in  this 
way  we  may  save  valuable  lives.  You  should,  as  you  have  said, 
go  on  at  once  ;  you  have  nothing  to  keep  you  ;  your  work 
is  waiting  for  you  there.  But  my  position  is  different  ;  I  have 
many  things  to  arrange  here  before  I  can  join  you.  I  want  to 
see  the  looms  at  work  on  the  plantation  ;  and  am  going  down 
next  week  with  uncle  Eric,  to  consult  with  the  overseer  about 
several  changes  which  I  desire  made  concerning  the  negroes. 
When  all  this  is  accomplished,  I  too  shall  come  into  the  hospitals." 

"  About  what  time  may  I  expect  you  ?" 

"  Not  until  you  see  me  ;  but  at  the  earliest  practicable  day." 

"  Your  uncle  objects  very  strenuously  to  such  a  plan,  does  he 
not  ?" 

"  He  will  acquiesce  at  the  proper  time.  Take  care  I  you  are 
making  your  bandages  too  wide." 

"  A  long  dark  vista  stretches  before  the  Confederacy.  I  can 
not,  like  many  persons,  feel  sanguine  of  a  speedy  termination  of 
the  war." 

"  Yes — a  vista  lined  with  the  bloody  graves  of  her  best  sons  ; 
but  beyond  glimmers  Freedom — Independence.  In  that  light 
we  shall  walk  without  stumbling.  Deprived  of  liberty  we 
cannot  exist,  and  its  price  was  fixed  when  the  foundations  of 
time  were  laid.  I  believe  the  termination  of  the  war  to  be  con- 
tingent only  on  the  method  of  its  prosecution.  Agathocles,  with 
thirteen  thousand  men,  established  a  brilliant  precedent,  which 
Scipio  followed  so  Successfully  in  the  second  Punic  war  ;  and 
when  our  own  able  generals  are  permitted  to  emulate  those 


412  macaeia;  ok, 

illustrious  leaders  of  antiquity,  then,  and  I  fear  not  until  then, 
shall  we  be  able  to  dictate  terms  of  peace." 

'*  Your  devotion,  then,  is  unshaken,  even  by  your  sorrows." 

"  Unshaken  !  Does  the  precious  blood  of  a  sacrifice  unsettle 
the  holy  foundation  of  the  altar  ?" 

"But,  Irene,  if  you  could  have  foreseen  all  that  Secession  has 
cost  you  ?" 

The  mourner  raised  her  eyes  from  the  snowy  heap  of  lint,  and 
answered  with  impressive  earnestness  and  pathos  : 

"  Could  I  have  foreseen  the  spirit  which  actuates  the  North — 
the  diabolical  hate  and  fiendishness  which  its  people  have  manifested 
— and  had  I  known  that  resistance  would  have  cost  the  lives  of 
all  in  the  Confederacy,  I  should  have  urged  Secession  as  the  only 
door  of  escape  from  political  bondage.  Rather  would  I  have 
men,  women,  and  children  fill  one  wide  common  grave,  than  live 
in  subjection  to,  or  connection  with,  a  people  so  depraved, 
unscrupulous,  and  Godless.  Electra,  national,  like  individual 
life,  which  is  not  noble,  is  not  worth  the  Uving.  A  people  who 
can  survive  their  liberty,  are  beneath  contempt  ;  and  to-day, 
desolate  though  I  am,  I  would  sooner  take  my  place  by  my 
father's  side,  than  recall  him  to  live  a  subject  of  the  despotic 
government  at  Washington.  Even  when  I  believed  the  friendly 
professions  of  thousands  at  the  North — when  I  believed  hi  the  ex- 
istence of  a  powerful  constitutional  and  conservative  party — I  was, 
from  the  beginning,  a  Secessionist  ;  and  now  that  the  mask 
of  political  cant  is  stripped  from  them,  I  am  more  than  ever 
convinced  of  the  correctness  of  my  views,  and  the  absolute  neces- 
sity of  the  step  we  took.  The  ultimate  result  can  never  effect 
the  question  of  the  right  and  propriety  of  Secession,  though 
it  may  demonstrate  the  deplorable  consequences  of  our  procras- 
tination. In  attestation  of  the  necessity  of  separation  stand  the 
countless  graves  of  our  dear  and  gallant  dead.  I  look  to  a  just 
God  to  avenge  them,  and  deliver  us." 

"  But  do  you  still  cling  to  a  belief  in  the  possibility  of  Re- 
publican   forms    of   Government  ?      This   is   a   question   which    «* 
constantly  disquiets  me." 

"  My  faith  in  that  possibility  is  unshaken.     Entire  self-abnc- 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  413 

gation  I  certainly  expected,  lioped  for,  on  tlie  part  of  onr  people  ; 
and  I  still  feel  assured  that  the  great  masses  are  capable 
of  patriotism  as  sublime  as  the  world  ever  witnessed,  and  that 
our  noble  armies  have  had  no  equal  iu  the  history  of  our  race. 
Nevertheless,  it  is  apparent  to  those  who  ponder  the  aspect 
of  public  affairs  that  demagogism  crawls  along  its  customary 
sinuous  path,  with  serpent-eyes  fastened  on  self-aggrandizement. 
The  pure  ore  of  our  country  will  be  found  in  the  ranks  of  our 
armies  ;  and  the  few  scheming  politicians,  plotting  for  position, 
for  offices  of  emolument  in  civil  or  military  departments,  will 
prove  the  dross  in  the  revolutionary  crucible.  I  have  no 
apprehension  for  our  future  as  lou^  as  demagogism  and  nepotism 
can  be  kept  down  ;  for  out  of  these  grow  innumerable  evils — not 
the  least  of  which  is  the  intrusting  of  important  posts  to  the 
hands  of  men  who  have  none  of  the  requisites,  save  their  relation- 
ship to,  or  possession  of,  the  favor  of  those  in  authority.  If  the 
nation  will  but  mark  the  unworthy  sons  whose  grasping,  selfish, 
ambition  will  not  even  be  restrained  in  hours  of  direst  peril  to  the 
cause,  and  brand  them  with  Mene,  Mene,  we  shall  yet  teach  the 
world  that  self-government  is  feasible." 

"  But  in  Europe,  where  the  subject  is  eagerly  canvassed,  the 
impression  obtains  that,  in  the  great  fundamental  principle  of  our 
government,  will  be  found  the  germ  of  its  dissolution.  This  war 
is  waged  to  establish  the  right  of  Secession,  and  the  doctrine 
that  *  all  just  governments  rest  on  the  consent  of  the  governed.^ 
With  such  a  precedent,  it  would  be  worse  than  stultification  to 
object  to  the  secession  of  any  state  or  states  now  constitutrag  the 
Confederacy,  who  at  a  future  day  may  choose  to  withdraw  from 
the  present  compact.  Granting  our  independence,  which  Europe 
regards  as  a  foregone  conclusion,  what  assurance  have  you  (say 
they,  gloating,,  in  anticipation  over  the  prospect)  that,  so  soon 
as  the  common  dangers  of  war,  which  for  a  time  cemented  you  so 
closely  are  over,  entire  disintegration  will  not  ensue,  and  all  your 
boasts  end  in  some  dozen  anarchical  pseudo-republics,  like  those  of 
South  America  and  Mexico  ?  Irene,  I  confess  I  have  a  haunting 
horror  of  the  influence  of  demagogues  on  our  future.  You  know 
Sir  Robert  Walpolc  once  said  :  '  Patriots  are  very  easily  raised, 


414  macaria;  or, 

You  have  l)ut  to  refuse  an  unreasonable  request,  and  up  springs 
a  patriot.'  I  am  afraid  that  disappointed  politicians  will  sow  seeds 
of  dissension  among  us." 

*'  Til  at  is  an  evil  which  our  legislators  must  guard  against,  by- 
timely  proYision.  We  are  now,  thank  God  !  a  thoroughly 
homogeneous  people,  with  no  antagonistic  systems  of  labor 
necessitating  conflicting  interests.  As  states,  we  are  completely 
identified  in  commerce  and  agriculture,  and  no  differences  need 
arise.  Purified  from  all  connection  with  the  Xorth,  and  with  no 
vestige  of  the  mischievous  element  of  Xew  England  Puritanism, 
which,  like  other  poisonous  Mycelium,  springs  up  pertinaciously 
where  even  a  shred  is  permitted,  w^  can  be  a  prosperous  and  noble 
people.  Rather  than  witness  our  national  corruption  through 
the  thousand  influences  which  have  so  often  degraded  people  of 
vast  wealth,  I  would  gladly  welcome  the  iron  currency  and  frugal 
public  tables  of  Ly<*urgus.  One  possible  source  of  evil  has 
occurred  to  me.  Unless  our  planters  everywhere  become  good 
agricultural  chemists,  and  by  a  moderate  outlay  renew  their 
lands  every  year,  the  planting  interest  will  gradually  drift  west- 
ward, in  pursuit  of  fresh  fertile  fields,  and  thus  leave  such  of  the  east- 
em  states  as  possess  great  advantages  in  the  water  line  to  engage 
in  manufactures  of  various  kinds.  That  negro  labor  is  by  no 
means  so  profitable  in  factory  as  field,  seems  well  estabhshed  ; 
and  if  this  condition  of  affairs  is  allowed  and  encouraged,  contra- 
riety of  interests  will  soon  show  itself,  and  demagogues  will 
climb  into  place  by  clamoring  for  '  protection.'  Heaven  preserve 
us  from  following  the  example  of  Xew  England  and  Pennsylvana  ! 
But  if  free-trade  is  declared,  and  our  pcfrts  are  thrown  open  to  all 
the  markets  of  the  world,  except  Lincoludom,  the  evil  will  be  ar- 
rested. True,  Europe  has  no  love  for  the  Confederacy,  and  we 
certainly  have  as  little  for  trans-Atlantic  nations — but  the  rigid 
laws  of  political  economy  forge  links  of  amity.  If  our  existence 
as  a  republic  depends  upon  the  perpetuity  of  the  institution  of 
slavery,  then,  it  seems  to  me,  that  the  aim  of  our  legislators 
should  be  to  render  us  'par  excellence  an  agricultural  people — 
and,  with  the  exception  of  great  national  arsenals  and  workshops, 
to  discourage  home  manufactories.   I  hope,  too,  for  an  amendment 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  415 

of  our  constitution,  which  shall  render  the  members  of  the  cabinet, 
and  all  our  foreign  ministers,  subject  entirely  to  the  appointment 
of  Congress,  and  the  tenure  of  the  latter  class  of  officials  for  life 
or  good  behaviour,  instead  of  being  selected  by  the  President,  as 
heretofore,  for  four  or  six  years.  To  the  disgraceful  hunt  for 
office  is  to  be  attributed  much  of  the  acrimony  of  party  feelin;^ 
which  characterizes  presidential  campaigns.  When  our  Presi- 
dents are  selected  and  supported  solely  for  their  intrinsic  abilit  \- 
and  nobility  t)f  soul,  instead  of  for  the  places  they  will  confer  on 
their  party,  we  shall  begin  to  seek  out  our  Cincinnatus  and  Aratus, 
and  tlie  premium  for  demagogism  will  be  lost.  But  we  have 
statesmen  among  us  who  must  see  all  these  evils,  aud  doubtless 
they  will  arrest  them  in  time.  We  are  paying  too  high  a  price 
for  our  freedom  to  have  it  stolen  from  us  in  future  by  unscnipulous 
political  gamesters,  who  would  sacrifice  a  valuable  principle  of 
government  in  order  to  secure  a  foreign  appointment." 

"  I  can  not  avoid  feeling  sceptical  of  the  public  virtue,  when 
seasons  of  prosperity  and  great  wealth  succeed  these  years  of  trial  ; 
and  of  late,  in  casting  the  horoscope  of  our  young  Confederacy, 
I  have  frequently  recalled  that  fine  passage  in  Montagu's  *  Reflec- 
tions on  the  Rise  and  Fall  of  Republics  :'  '  Greece,  once  the  nurse 
of  arts  and  sciences,  the  fruitful  mother  of  philosophers,  law-givers, 
and  heroes,  now  lies  prostrate  under  the  iron  yoke  of  ignorance 
and  barbarism Carthage,  once  the  mighty  sover- 
eign of  the  ocean,  and  the  centre  of  universal  commerce,  which 
poured  the  riches  of  all  nations  into  her  lap,  now  puzzles  the  in- 
quisitive traveler  in  his  researches  after  even  the  vestiges  of  her 

ruins And  Rome,  the  mistress  of  the  universe, 

which  once  contained  whatever  was  esteemed  great  or  brilliant 
in  human  nature,  is  now  sunk  into  the  ignoble  seat  of  whatever 

is  esteemed  mean  and  infamous Should  Faction 

again  predominate  and  succeed  in  its  destructive  views,  and  th- 
dastardly  maxims  of  luxury  aud  effeminacy  universally  prevail 
amongst  us,  ....  such,  too,  will  be  the  fate  of  Britain  ;' 
aui  I  may  add  of  the  Confederacy — for  where  are  the  safeguards 
of  its  public  purity  ?" 

Electra  had  finished  the  bandages,  and  was  walking  slowly  be- 


416  MACARIA  ;   OR, 

fore  tlie  windows,  and,  without  looking  up  from  the  lint,  which 
she  was  tying  into  small  packages,  Irene  answered  : 

"  The  safeguards  will  be  found  in  the  mothers,  wives,  and  sisters 
of  our  land." 

"  Ah  !  but  their  hands  are  tied  ;  and  they  walk  but  a  short, 
narrow  path,  from  hearthstone  to  threshold,  and  back  again. 
They  hare,  I  know,  every  inclination  to  exert  a  restraining  influ- 
ence, but  no  power  to  utilize  it.  Sometimes  I  almost  fear  that 
the  fabled  Norse  Ragnarok  is  darkening  over  this  continent. 
The  monsters,  Midgard-Serpent,  Fenris,  and  all  have  certainly 
been  unloosed  at  the  North." 

"Electra,  though  we  are  very  properly  debarred  from  the 
*  tented-field,  I  have  entire  confidence  that  the  cause  of  our  coun- 
try may  be  advanced,  and  its  good  promoted,  through  the  agency 
of  its  daughters  ;  for,  out  of  the  dim  historic  past  come  words 
of  encouragement.  Have  you  forgotten  that,  when  Sparta  for- 
sook the  stern  and  sublime  simplicity  of  her  ancient  manners, 
King  Agis  found  himself  unable  to  accomplish  his  scheme  of 
redeeming  his  degenerate  country  from  avarice  and  corruption, 
until  the  ladies  of  Sparta  gave  their  consent  and  support  to  the 
plan  of  reform  ?  Southern  women  have  no  desire  to  usurp  legis- 
lative reins  ;  their  appropriate  work  consists  in  moulding  the 
manners  and  morals  of  the  nation  ;  in  checking  the  wild  excesses 
of  fashionable  life,  and  the  dangerous  spirit  of  extravagance  ;  of 
reckless  expenditure  in  dress,  furniture,  and  equipage,  which 
threatened  ruinous  results  before  the  declaration  of  hostilities. 
Noble  wives,  who  properly  appreciate  the  responsibility  of  their 
position,  should  sternly  rebuke  and  frown  down  the  disgraceful- 
idea,  which  seems  to  be  gaining  ground  and  favor  in  our  cities, 
that  married  women  may,  with  impunity,  seek  attentions  and 
admiration  abroad.  Married  belles  and  married  beaux  are  not 
harmless,  nor  should  they  be  tolerated  in  really  good  society. 
Women  who  so  far  forget  their  duties  to  their  homes  and  hus- 
bands, and  the  respect  due  to  pubhc  opinion,  as  to  habitually 
seek  for  happiness  in  the  mad  whirl  of  so-called  fashionable  life, 
ignoring  household  obligations,  should  be  driven  from  well-bred, 
refined  circles,  to  hide  their  degradation  at  the  firesides  they  have 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  417 

disgraced.  That  wives  should  constantly  endeavor  to  cultivate 
social  graces,  and  render  themselves  as  fascinating  as  possible,  I 
hold  their  sacred  duty  ;  but  beauty  should  be  preserved,  and 
accomplishments  perfected,  to  bind  their  husband's  hearts  more 
closely,  to  make  their  homes  attractive  instead  of  being  constant- 
ly paraded  before  the  world  for  the  unholy  purpose  of  securing 
the  attentions  and  adulation  of  other  gentlemen.  I  do  not  desire 
to  see  married  women  recluses  ;  on  the  contrary,  I  believe  that 
society  has  imperative  claims  upon  them,  which  should  be  prompt- 
ly met,  and  faithfully  and  gracefully  discharged.  But  those  de- 
graded wives,  who  are  never  seen  with  then*  husbands  when  they 
can  avoid  it — who  are  never  happy  unless  riding  or  walking  with 
strangers,  or  receiving  their  attentions  at  theatres,  concerts,  or 
parties — are  a  disgrace  to  the  nation,  which  they  are  gradually 
demoralizing  and  corrupting.  From  the  influence  of  these  few 
deluded  weak  libels  on  our  sex,  may  God  preserve  our  age  and 
country  I  They  are  utterly  unworthy  the  noble  work  which  calls 
loudly  to  every  true  Southern  woman.  Statesmen  are  trained  up 
around  the  mother's  arm-chair,  and  she  can  imbue  the  boy  with 
lofty  sentiments,  and  inspire  him  with  aims  which,  years  hence, 
shall  lead  him  in  congressional  halls  to  adhere  to  principles,  to 
advance  the  Truth — though,  thereby,  votes  for  the  next  election 
fall  away,  hke  stricken  leaves  in  autumn.  What  time  has  the 
married  belle  for  this  holy  hearthstone  mission  ?  The  conscien- 
tious, devoted,  and  patriotic  Christian  women  of  a  nation  are  the 
safeguards  of  its  liberties  and  purity." 

"All  perfectly  true,  and  very  encouraging  in  the  abstract ; 
but,  Irene,  how  many  women  do  you  suppose  sit  down  and  ponder 
their  individual  responsibility  ?" 

"  Electra,  my  friend,  are  you  sure  that  you  do  ?  Your  pro- 
fession will  give  you  vast  influence  in  forming  public  taste,  and  I 
hope  much  from  its  judicious  use.  Be  careful  that  you  select 
only  the  highest,  purest  types  to  offer  to  your  countrymen  and 
women,  when  Peace  enables  us  to  turn  our  attention  to  the  great 
work  of  building  up  a  noble  school  of  Southern  Art.  "We  want 
no  feeble,  sickly  sentimentality,  nor  yet  the  sombre  austerity 

18* 


418  MACARIA  ;    OK, 

which  seems  to  pervade  your  mind,  judging  from  the  works  you 
have  shown  rae." 

A  slight  quiver  crossed  the  mobile  features  of  the  artist  as  she 
bit  her  full  lip,  and  asked  : 

**  What  would  you  pronounce  the  distinguishing  characteristic 
of  my  works  ?    I  saw,  yesterday,  that  you  were  not  fully  satisfied." 

"  A  morbid  melancholy,  which  you  seem  to  have  fostered  ten- 
derly instead  of  crushing  vigorously.  A  disposition  to  dwell  upou 
the  stern  and  gloomy  aspects  of  the  physical  world,  and  to  inten- 
sify and  reproduce  abnormal  and  unhappy  phases  of  character. 
Your  breezy,  sunshiny,  joyous  moods  you  have  kept  under  lock 
and  key  while  in  your  studio.'^ 

"  You  are  right  ;  but  I  merely  dipped  my  brush  in  the  colors 
of  my  own  life,  and  if  my  work  is  gray,  and  sad,  and  shadowy, 
it  is  no  fault  of  mine.     One  who  sits  at  her  easel,  listening  ever  to 

"  The  low  footsteps  of  each  coming  ill,'' 

should  be  pardoned  if  her  canvas  glows  not  with  gala  occasions, 

and  radiant  faces  that  have  never  looked  beyond  the  glittering 

confines  of  Aladdin's  palace.     Remember,  the  *  lines'  did  not  fall 

to  me  *  in  pleasant  places,'  and  it  is  not  strange  that  I  sometimes 

paint  desert,  barren  scenes,  without  grapes  of  Eshcol  or  Tokay. 

Irene, 

*"      .      .      .      Long  green  days, 
"Worn  bare  of  grass  and  sunshine — long  calm  nights 
From  which  the  silken  sleeps  were  fretted  out — 
Be  witness  for  me.  with  no  amateur's 
Irreverent  haste  and  busy  idleness 
I've  set  myself  to  Art !'" 

"  I  admit  the  truth  of  your  criticism,  and  I  have  struggled 
against  the  spirit  which  hovers  with  cloudhig  wings  over  all  that 
I  do  ;  but  the  shadow  has  not  lifted — God  knows  whether  it 
ever  will.  Do  you  recollect,  among  those  fine  illustrations  of 
Poe's  works  which  we  examined  yesterday,  the  dim  spectral  head 
and  sable  pinions  brooding  mournfully  over  '  The  City  in  the 
Sea  V  Ah  I  its  darkening  counterpart  flits  over  me.  You  have 
finished  your  work  ;  come  to  my  room  for  a  few  minutes." 

They  went  up  stairs  together  ;  and  as  Electra  unlocked  and 


*  ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  419 

bent  over  a  large  square  trunk,  her  companion  noticed  a  pecu- 
liar curl  about  the  lines  of  the  mouth,  and  a  heavy  scowl  on  the 
broad  bow.  ^■ 

"  I  want  to  show  you  the  only  bright,  shining  face  I  ever 
painted." 

She  unwrapped  an  oval  portrait,  placed  it  on  the  mantle-piece, 
and,  stej)ping  back,  fixed  her  gaze  on  Irene.  She  saw  a  tremor 
cross  the  quiet  mouth,  and  for  some  seconds  the  sad  eyes  dwelt 
upon  the  picture  as  if  fascinated. 

"  It  must  have  been  a  magnificent  portrait  of  your  cousin, 
years  ago  ;  but  he  has  changed  materially  since  it  was  painted. 
He  looks  much  older,  sterner,  now." 

"  Would  you  have  recognized  it  under  any  circumstances  ?" 

'*  Yes — anywhere  ;  if  I  had  stumbled  over  it  in  the  dusty 
crypts  of  Luxor,  or  the  icy  wastes  of  Siberia.  I  have  never  seen 
but  one  head  that  resembled  that,  or  eyes  that  were  in  any  de- 
gree comparable." 

"  Irene,  I  value  this  portrait  above  everything  else  save  the 
original  ;  and,  as  I  may  be  called  to  pass  through  various  perils, 
I  want  you  to  take  care  of  it  for  me  until  I  come  back  to  W — — . 
It  is  a  precious  trust,  which  I  would  be  willing  to  leave  in  no 
hands  but  yours." 

"  You  forget  that,  before  long,  I,  too,  shall  go  to  Virginia." 

"  Then  pack  it  away  carefully  among  your  old  family  pictures, 
where  it  will  be  secure.  I  left  my  large  and  best  paintings  in 
Italy,  with  aunt  Ruth,  who  promised  to  preserve  and  send  them 
to  me  as  soon  as  the  blockade  should  be  raised." 

"  Wiiat  are  Mr.  Young's  views  concerning  this  war  ?" 

"  He  utterly  abhors  the  party  who  inaugurated  it,  and  the 
principles  upon  which  it  is  waged.  Says  he  will  not  return  to 
America,  at  least  for  the  present  ;  and  as  soon  as  he  can  con- 
vert his  property  into  money,  intends  to  move  to  the  South.^  He 
opposed  and  regretted  Secession  until  he  saw  the  spirit  of  the 
Lincoln  dynasty,  and  from  that  time  he  acknowledged  that  all 
hope  of  Union  or  reconstruction  was  lost.  Have  you  heard  any- 
thing from  Harvey  since  the  troubles  began  ?" 

"  It  is  more  than  a  year  since  I  received  a  line  from  him.     He 


420  MAC  ART  A  ;    OE, 

was  then  still  in  the  West,  but  made  no  allusion  to  the  condition 
of  the  country." 

'^  Irene,  I  hope  to  see  Russell  soon.  You  were  once  dear 
friends  ;  have  you  any  message  for  him — any  word  of  kind  re- 
membrance ?" 

One  of  Irene's  hands  glided  to  her  side,  but  she  answered, 
composedly  : 

"  He  knows  that  he  always  has  my  best  wishes  ;  but  will  ex- 
pect no  message." 

On  the  following  day  Electra  started  to  Richmond,  taking 
with  her  a  large  supply  of  hospital  stores,  which  the  ladies  of 
W had  contributed. 

Eric  had  proposed  to  his  niece  the  expediency  of  selling  the 
Hill,  and  becoming  an  inmate  of  his  snug,  tasteful,  bachelor 
home  ;  but  she  firmly  refused  to  consent  to  this  plan  :  said  that 
she  would  spend  her  life  in  the  house  of  her  birth  ;  and  it  was 
finally  arranged  that  her  uncle  should  reserve  such  of  the  furni- 
ture as  he  valued  particularly,  and  offer  the  residue  for  sale,  with 
the  pretty  cottage,  to  which  he  was  warmly  attached.  During 
the  remamder  of  autumn  Irene  was  constantly  engaged  in  super- 
intending work  for  the  soldiers,  in  providing  for  several  poor 
families  in  whom  she  was  much  interested,  and  in  frequent  visits 
to  the  plantation,  where  she  found  more  than  enough  to  occupy 
her  mind  ;  and  Eric  often  wondered  at  the  admirable  system  and 
punctuality  she  displayed — at  the  grave  composure  with  which 
she  discharged  her  daily  duties,  and  the  invariable  reticence  she 
observed  with  regard  to  her  past  life. 


CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

"  Did  you  ring,  Mas'  Eric  ?" 

"  Yes.     Has  Irene  come  home  ?" 

"  Not  yet,  sir." 

"  Bring  some  more  wood." 


ALTARS    OF     SACRIFICE. 


421 


Ovv'inc^  to  the  scarcity  of  coal,  the  grate  had  been  removed, 
and  massive  brass  andirons  substituted.      John  piled  them  with 
oak  wood,  swept  the  hearth,  and  retired.     It  was  a  cold  evening  ; 
there  had  been  sleet  the  night  before  ;  the  trees  were  glittering 
with  icicles  ;    but  in  the  afternoon  the  sky  cleared,  and  a  sharp 
north-wester  promised  good  weather.     Eric  drew  the  sofa  nearer 
the  blazing  fire,   and  laid  himself  down  to  rest— waiting  im- 
patiently for  the  return  of  his  niece,  who  had  been  absent  since 
dinner.      The  library  looked  cheerful,   comfortable,  luxurious. 
Irene's  pretty  work-basket  sat  on  the  little  mosaic  table,  close  to 
the  hearth  ;  and  by  its  side  lay  a  volume  of  Tennyson  opened  at 
"  Locksley  Hall,"  with  a  half- finished  glove  which  she  had  been 
knitting  that  morning  resting  on  the  page.     Upon  the  low  man- 
tle-piece stood  two  ruby-colored  bulb-glasses,  containing  purple 
hyacinths  in  full  bloom  ;    between  them  a  fluted  crystal  vase  of 
perfect  white  camellias  from  the  green-house  ;  and  in  a  rich  bo- 
hemian  goblet  three  early  golden  crocuses  looked  out  from  a  mass 
of  geranium  leaves.     Bronze  busts  of  Kepler,  Herschel,  and  La 
Place  crowned  the  heavy  carved  bookcases  ;  the  soft,  silvery 
glow  of  the  lamp  fell  upon  the  form  of  the  cripple,  wrapped  in  a 
warm  plaid  dressing-gown,  and  showed  the  thin,  sharply-cut  vis- 
age of  Paragon,  who  had  curled  himself  lazily  on  the  velvet  rog. 
The  room  was  very  still,  save  the  sound  of  the  crackling  fire  and 
the  chirping  of  the  canary,  whose  cage  had  been  placed  on  one 
of  the  broad  window-sills.      After  a  time,  the  door  opened  and 
the  mistress  came  in. 

*'  Irene  I   you  must  be  nearly  frozen.     What  kept  you  out  so 

late  ?" 

"  I  had  more  than  usual  to  attend  to  at  the  Asylum  this 

afternoon." 

•'  What  was  the  matter  ?" 

"  We  have  a  new  Matron,  and  I  was  particularly  anxious  that 
she  should  start  right  in  one  or  two  respects.  I  waited,  too, 
in  order  to  see  the  children  at  supper,  cftid  satisfy  myself  about 
the  cooking." 

"  How  many  orphans  are  there  in  the  Asylum  ?" 

"Thirty-four.      I   admitted   two   this  evening— children   of 


4»32  MACAKIA  ;   OR, 

one  of  our  soldiers,  who  died  from  a  wound  received  at  Lees- 
burg." 

**  Poor  little  things  !  I  am  afraid  you  will  fiud  numbers  of 
similar  instances  before  this  war  is  at  an  end." 

"  We  will  try  to  find  room  for  all  such  cases.  The  building 
will  accommodate  one  hundred."  * 

"  You  must  be  very  cold  ;  I  will  make  John  bring  you  a 
glass  of  wine." 

"  No,  sir  ;  I  do  not  need  it.  My  shawl  was  thick  and 
wai-m." 

Resting  his  elbow  on  the  silken  cushions,  her  uncle  leaned  for- 
ward so  as  to  see  her  countenance  distinctly.  She  had  put  out 
one  hand  on  the  shining  head  of  her  dog,  who  now  sat  close  to 
her  chair,  gazing  solemnly  into  the  red  coals  ;  and  her  posture, 
as  she  rested  far  back  against  the  morocco  lining,  betokened 
weariness.  By  contrast  with  the  thick  folds  of  her  bombazine 
dress,  the  face  gleamed  singularly  white,  and  the  curling  brown 
lashes  made  fringy  shadows  on  the  polished  cheeks. 

**  Irene." 

Siie  turned  her  head  shglitly,  and  raised  her  eyes. 

"  Did  you  receive  a  letter  which  I  sent  to  your  room  ?" 
*  "  Yes,  sir.     It  was  from  Dr.  Arnold." 

"  He  has  established  himself  in  Richmond." 

"  Yes,  sir  :  his  recent  attack  of  rheumatism  unfitted  him  for 
service  in  the  field." 

"  I  had  a  letter  from  Colonel  Aubrey  to-day.  He  wants  to 
buy  my  house." 

She  made  no  comment,  and  her  eyes  drooped  again  to  the 
perusal  of  the  strange  shapes  which  danced  and  flickered  on  the 
burnished  andirons. 

"  "What  use  do  you  suppose  he  has  for  it  ?" 

"  I  cannot  imagine,  unless  he  intends  it  as  a  home  for  Electra." 

"  What  a  witch  you  are  at  guessing  ;  that  is  exactly  it.  He 
says,  in  this  letter,  thaf  he  may  not  survive  the  war,  and  wishes 
to  have  the  assurance  that  his  cousin  is  comfortably  provided  for 
before  he  goes  into  another  battle.  His  offer  is  liberal,  and  I 
shall  accept  it." 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  423 

"  Well,  I  am  glad  she  will  own  it — for  I  have  often  heard  her 
speak  of  those  old  poplar  trees  in  the  front  yard.  She  has 
always  admired  the  place." 

"  I  trust  Aubrey  will  come  back  safely,  marry  some  woman 
w^orthy  of  his  heart  and  intellect,  and  live  there  happily  himself. 
Do  you  believe  the  current  report  that  he  is  engaged  to  Salome  ?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Why  not  ?  She  is  certainly  a  brilliant  girl,  and  an  undoubt- 
ed beauty." 

"  Such  a  temperament  as  hers  would  scarcely  suit  him,  I 
think." 

"  But  people  often  select  their  opposites." 

''  And  ffJi'  that  reason  I  suspect  that  she  would  not  make  him 
happy.  What  a  glowing  beauty  she  is?  As  I  went  to  the 
Asylum  I  saw  her  riding  with  some  gentlemen,  and  I  felt  as  if  I 
could  w^arm  my  fingers  by  holding  them  near  her  burning  cheeks. 
Such  complexions  as  hers  are  very  rare  at  the  South." 

"  I  should  not  wonder  if  Kussell  married  her,  after  all." 

He  hoped  for  some  change  of  countenance  implying  concern, 
but  no  shadow  hovered  over  the  fair  face.  There  Avas  no  uneasy 
movement  of  the  dimpled  hand  which  lay  on  Paragon's  head,  nor 
could  he  detect  the  faintest  indication  of  interest.  At  this  junc- 
ture the  tea-bell  summoned  them  to  the  dining-room,  and  she  al- 
lowed her  uncle  no  opportunity  of  renewing  the  conversation. 
When  the  meal  was  concluded,  and  they  had  returned  to  the 
library,  Irene  drew  her  table  and  basket  near  the  lamp,  and  re- 
sumed her  knitting.  The  invalid  frowned,  and  asked,  impa- 
tiently : 

"  Can't  you  buy  as  many  of  those  coarse  things  as  you  want, 
without  toiling  night  and,  day  V" 

"  In  the  first  place,  I  do  not  toil  ;  knitting  is  purely  mechan- 
ical, very  easy,  and  I  like  it.  In  the  second  place,  I  can  not  buy 
them,  and  our  men  need  them  when  they  are  standing  guard.  It 
is  cold  work  holding  a  musket  in  the  open  air,  such  weather  as 
this." 

He  looked  annoyed,  and  dived  deeper  among  his  cushions. 

*'  Don't  you  feel  as  well  as  usual  this  evening,  uncle  Eric  ?^ 


424:  MACARTA  ;    OR, 

*'  Oh  I  I  am  well  enough — but  I  hate  the  everlasting  motion 
of  those  steel  needles." 

She  rolled  up  the  glove,  put  it  in  her  basket,  and  rose. 

"  Shall  I  read  to  you  ?  Or,  how  would  yon  like  a  game  of 
chess  ?" 

*'  I  do  not  expect  you  to  humor  my  whims.  Above  all  things, 
my  child,  I  dread  the  thought  of  becoming  troublesome  to  you," 

"  You  can  never  be  that,  uncle  Eric  ;  and  I  shall  always  be 
glad  if  you  will  tell  me  how  I  can  make  your  time  pass  more 
pleasantly.  I  know  this  house  must  seem  gloomy  enough  at  best. 
Let  us  try  a  game  of  chess  ;  we  have  not  played  since  you  came 
from  Europe." 

She  brought  the  board,  and  the^  sat  down  to  the  most  quiet 
and  absorbing  of  all  games.  Both  played  well,  and  when  Eric 
was  finally  vanquished,  he  was  surprised  to  find,  from  the  hands 
of  the  clock,  that  the  game  had  lasted  nearly  two  hours.  As 
she  carefully  replaced  the  ivory  combatants  in  their  box,  Irene 
said  : 

"  Uncle,  you  know  that  I  have  long  desired  and  intended  to 
go  to  Richmond,  but  various  circumstances  combined  to  keep  me 
at  home.  I  felt  that  I  had  duties  here  which  must  first  be  dis- 
charged ;  now  the  time  has  come  when  I  can  accomplish  my 
long-cherished  plan.  Dr.  Arnold  has  taken  charge  of  the  hospi- 
tal in  Richmond  which  was  established  with  the  money  we  sent 

from  W for  the  relief  of  our  regiments.     Mrs.  Campbell 

is  about  to  t)e  installed  as  Matron,  and  I  have  to-day  decided  to 
join  them.  In  his  letter  received  this  afternoon  he  orders  me  not 
to  come,  but  I  know  that  he  will  give  me  a  ward  when  he  finds 
me  at  his  elbow.  I  am  aware  that  you  have  always  opposed 
this  project,  but  I  hope,  sir,  that  you  will  waive  your  objections, 
and  go  on  with  me  next  week." 

"  It  is  a  strange  and  unreasonable  freak,  which,  I  must  say,  I 
do  not  approve  of.  There  are  plenty  of  nurses  to  be  hired,  who 
have  more  experience,  and  are  every  way  far  more  suitable  for 
such  positions." 

"  Uncle,  the  men  in  our  armies  are  not  hired  to  fight  our  bat- 
tles ;  and  the  least  the  women  of  the  land  can  do  is  to  nurse  them 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFrCE.  425 

when  sick  or  wounded.  The  call  is  imperative.  Mothers  and  wives 
are,  in  most  instances,  kept  at  home  ;  but  I  have  nothing  to  bind 
me  here.  I  have  no  ties  to  prevent  me  from  giving  my  services  in 
the  only  way  in  which  I  can  aid  the  cause  for  which  my  father 
died.  I  feel  it  a  sacred  duty  ;  and,  uncle  Eric,  it  is  useless  to 
argue  the  matter.  I  am  determined  to  go  at  once.  Will  you 
accompany  me  ?'' 

"  You  will  kill  yourself." 

"  I  could  not  die  in  a  better  cause." 

"  Is  life  60  worthless,  that  you  would  rashly  throw  it  away  ?" 

"  By  no  means.     I  am  able  to  endure  what  I  undertake." 

"  Does  not  one  querulous  invalid  cripple  sufficiently  exercise 
your  patience  ?"  * . 

"  Xo,  sir.  Beside,  I  can  take  care  of  you  in  Richmond,  as 
well  as  of  others,  who  need  me  much  more." 

"  What  do  you  propose  to  do  with  the  house,  meantime  ?" 

"  I  shall  send  the  horses  to  the  plantation,  and  take  Andrew 
with  me  ;  he  is  an  admirable  nurse.  Martha,  also,  whom  I  have 
tested  on  several  occasions,  can  assist  me  greatly  in  the  hospital. 
The  other  servants  I  shall  leave  here.  John  and  Xellie  will  keep 
things  in  order.  I  have  endeavored  to  foresee  and  remove  all 
obstacles  to  my  departure." 

"  Ah  !  but  you  have  been  so  delicately  nurtured,  and  the 
burden  you  would  take  upon  yourself  is  so  onorous." 

"  I  have  counted  the  cost." 

She  laid  her  hand  gently  on  his  whitening  hair,  and  added, 
pleadingly  : 

"  Do  not  oppose  me,  uncle  Eric.  I  want  your  sanction  in  all 
that  I  do.  Tliere  are  only  two  of  us  left  ;  go  with  me  as  my 
adviser— protector.  I  could  not  be  happy  if  you  were  not  with 
me." 

His  eyes  filled  instantly,  and  drawing  her  close  to  hun,  he  ex- 
claimed, tremulously  : 

"  My  dear  Irene  I  there  is  nothing  I  would  not  do  to  make 
you  happy.  Happy  I  fear  you  never  will  be.  Ah  I  don't  smile 
and  contradict  me  ;  I  know  the  difference  between  happiness  and 
resignation.     Patience,  uncomplaining  endurance,  never  yet  stole 


426  macaria;  or, 

the  garments  of  joy.  I  will  go  with  you  to  Yirginia,  or  anywhere 
else  that  you  wish." 

"  Thank  you,  uncle  Eric.  I  will  try  to  make  you  forget  the 
comforts  of  home,  and  give  you  no  reason  to  regret  that  you 
sacriticed  your  wishes  and  judgment  to  mine.  I  must  not  keep 
you  up  any  later." 

She  rang  for  Willis,  and,  taking  a  taper  from  the  stand, 
proceeded  to  light  the  small  lamp  which  had  been  placed  in 
readiness  on  the  table.  With  its  use  her  uncle  had  long  been 
familiar. 

"  You  surely  are  not  going  up  to  that  ice-house  such  a  night 
as  this  ?     That  marble  floor  will  freeze  you  !" 

"  I  shall  not  stay  long.  It  is  the  first  clear  night  we  have  had 
for  more  than  a  week,  and  I  can  not  lose  such  an  opportunity. 
The  nebula  in  Orion  will  show  splendidly,  and, 

'* '  The  Pleiads  rising  through  the  mellow  bhade, 
Glitter  like  a  swarm  of  fire-flies  tangled  in  a  silver  braid.'  " 

"  What  a  devotee  you  are  !  What  a  bigot  you  would  have 
been  five  hundred  years  ago  1  What  a  tireless  Rosicrucian  you 
would  have  made  !  What  an  indefatigable  traveler  after  my- 
thic Sangraal  !  You  very  often  remind  me  of  an  aphorism  of 
Emerson  :  *  Xo  man  is  quite  sane  ;  each  has  a  vein  of  folly  in 
his  composition,  a  slight  determination  of  blood  to  the  head,  to 
make  sure  of  holding  him  hard  to  some  one  point  which  nature 
has  taken  to  heart.'  " 

"  I  am  no  more  insane  than  Emerson  is  orthodox  or  infallible, 
and  a  mild  form  of  Sabeism  ought  to  be  tolerated  even  in  this 
age,  when  it  is  used  as  a  glittering  ladder  to  God,  to  purity  and 
to  peace.  Here  I  am  continually  oppressed  with  a  sense  of 
desolation  ;  as  I  walk  these  silent  rooms,  Father !  Father  ! 
is  the  cry  of  my  lonely  soul.  But  yonder  I  forget  my  loss. 
In  the  observatory  my  griefs  slip  from  me,  as  did  Christian's 
burden.  I  remember  only  the  immeasurable  heights  and  depths, 
the  infinitude,  the  grandeur,  and  the  glory  of  the  universe — 
and  there,  as  no  where  else,  I  can  bow  myself  down,  and  say, 
humbly  and  truly,  *  Not  my  will,  oh,  God  I  but  thine  !'   Good- 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  f^^^^Sf^         "^^^ 

night,  unele  Eric.     "Willis,  shut  Paragon  in  his  house  before  you 
go  to  sleep." 

She  wrapped  a  heavy  black  shawl  arouud  her  shoulders,  and 
taking  the  lamp  went  up  to  the  observatory. 

The  army  of  the  Potomac  had  fallen  back  to  Yorktown  when 
Irene  reached  Richmond  ;  and  the  preparations  which  were  being 
made  for  the  reception  of  the  wounded  gave  melancholy  premo- 
uitiort  of  impending  battles. 

Dr.  Arnold  had  been  intrusted  with  the  supervision  of  several 
hospitals,  but  gave  special  attention  to  one  established  with  the 

funds  contributed  by  the  citizens  of  W ,  and  thither  Irene 

repaired  on  the  day  of  her  arrival. 

In  reply  to  her  inquiries,  she  was  directed  to  a  small  room, 
and  found  the  physician  seated  at  a  table,  examining  a  bundle  of 
papers.  He  saw  only  a  form  darkening  the  door-way,  and,  with- 
out looking  up,  called  out,  gruffly  : 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?     What  do  you  want  V 

"  A  word  of  welcome." 

He  sprang  to  his  feet  instantly,  holding  out  both  hands. 

"Dear  child  I  Queen!  God  bless  you!  How  are  you  ? 
Pale  as  a  cloud,  and  thin  as  a  shadow.  What  the  deuce  are  you 
doing  here  ?     I  ordered  you  to  stay  at  home,  did  n't  I  ?" 

He  had  caught  her  hands  eagerly  to  his  lips,  and  held  them 
like  a  vice. 

"  Home  was  too  dreary.  I  wanted  to  see  you,  to  be  with  you 
once  more,  to  work  here  in  your  sight,  by  your  direction.  Don't 
scold  and  growl  at  me  for  coming.  Give  me  a  morsel  of  aflfec- 
tion  ;  oh,  Doctor  !  I  am  hungry  !  hungry  and  desolate." 

She  lifted  her  sorrow-stricken  face  to  his,  and  felt  his  tears  fiUl 
thick  on  her  silky  hair. 

"  Dear  child  1  I  knew  how  it  would  be.  I  wanted  to  go 
to  you,  but  I  could  not.  Irene,  don't  look  so  dreary  and  hope- 
less ;  it  wrings  my  heart  to  see  that  expression  on  your  mouth. 
You  know  I  am  glad  to  have  you,  my  treasure,  my  beloved 
child.  You  know  that  you  are  the  very  light  of  my  life.  Growl 
at  you,  Queen  !  I  will  see  myself  hanged  first  I  Sit  down  here 
by  me.     Where  is  Eric  ?" 


428  MAC  ART  A  ;    OR, 

"  He  was  much  fatigued,  and  I  left  him  at  the  hotel.'' 

"  You  have  been  i!)  a  long  time,  Irene,  and  have  kept  it  from 
me.  That  was  not  right  ;  you  should  have  been  honest  in  your 
letters.  A  pretty  figure  you  will  cut  nursing  sick  folks  !  Work 
in  my  sight,  indeed  !  If  you  say  work  to  me  again,  I  will  clap 
you  into  a  lunatic-asylum  and  keep  you  there  till  the  war  is  over. 
Turn  your  face  to  the  light." 

"  I  am  well  enough  in  body  ;  it  is  my  mind  only  that  is  ill  at 
ease  ;  my  heart  only  that  is  sick — sorely  sick.  Here  I  shall  find 
employment,  and,  I  trust,  partial  forgetfulness.  Put  me  to  work 
at  once  ;  that  will  be  my  best  medicine." 

''  And  you  really  missed  me.  Queen  ?" 

"  Yes,  inexpressibly  ;  I  felt  my  need  of  you  continually.  You 
must  know  how  I  cling  to  you  now." 

Again  he  drew  her  little  hands  to  his  granite  mouth,  and  seem- 
ed to  muse  for  a  moment. 

"  Doctor,  how  is  Electra  ?" 

"  Very  well — that  is,  as  well  as  such  an  anomalous,  volcanic, 
torrid  character  ought  to  be.  At  first  she  puzzled  me  (and  that 
is  an  insult  I  find  it  hard  to  forgive),  but  finally  I  found  the 
clew.  She  is  indefatigable  and  astonishingly  faithful  as  a  nurse  ; 
does  all  her  duty,  and  more,  which  is  saying  a  good  deal — for  I 
am  a  hard  task-master.  Are  n't  you  afraid  that  I  will  work  you 
more  unmercifully  than  a  Yankee  factory-child,  or  a  Cornwall 
miner  ?  See  here.  Queen  ;  what  do  you  suppose  brought  Elec- 
tra to  Hichmond  ?" 

"  A  desire  to  render  some  service  to  the  sick  and  suffering,  and 
also  to  be  comparatively  near  her  cousin." 

"  Precisely  ;  only  the  last  should  be  first,  and  the  first  last. 
Kussell  is  a  perverse,  ungrateful  dog." 

As  he  expected,  she  glanced  up  at  him,  but  refrained  from 
comment. 

"  Yes,  Irene — he  is  a  soulless  scamp.  Here  is  his  cousin  en- 
tirely devoted  to  him,  loving  him  above  everything  else  in  this 
world,  and  yet  he  has  not  even  paid  her  a  visit,  except  in  pass- 
ing through  to  Yorktown  with  his  command.  He  might  be  a 
happy  man,  if  he  would  but  open  his  eyes  and  see  what  Is  as 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  ' "  429 

plain  as  tlic  nose  on  my  face — which,  yon  .app^  ^.,mit  .equires 
no  microscope.  She  is  a  gifted  woman^vlla  .rould  buit  him  ex- 
actly — even  better  than  my  salamander,'  {5alome." 

A  startled,  incredulous  expression  came  into  Irene's  large  eyes, 
and  gradually  a  look  of  keen  pain  settled  on  her  features. 

"  Aha  I  did  that  idea  never  occur  to  you  before  ?" 

"  Never,  sir  ;  and  you  must  be  mistaken." 

'*  Why,  child  ?  The  fact  is  patent.  You  women  profess  to 
be  so  quick-witted,  too,  in  such  matters — I  am  amazed  at  your 
obtuseness.     She  idolizes  Aubrey." 

"  It  is  scarcely  strange  that  she  should  ;  she  has  no  other  re- 
latives near  her,  and  it  is  natural  that  she  should  love  her  cousin;" 

"  I  tell  you  I  know  what  I  say .!  she  will  never  love  anybody 
else  as  she  loves  Aubrey.  Beside,  what  is  it  to  you  whether  he 
marries  her  or  not  ?" 

*'  I  feel  attached  to  her,  and  want  to  see  her  happy." 

"  As  Russeirs  wife  ?" 

"  No,  sir.  The  marriage  of  cousins  was  always  revolting  to 
me." 

She  did  not  flinch  from  his  glittering  gray  eye,  and  her  grieved 
look  deepened. 

"  Is  she  here  ?     Can  I  see  her  ?" 

"  She  is  not  in  this  building,  but  I  will  inform  her  of  your  ar- 
rival. I  have  become  much  interested  in  her.  She  is  a  brilliant, 
erratic  creature,  and  has  a  soul  !  which  can  not  safely  be  predi- 
cated of  all  the  sex,  now-aday.     Where  are  you  going  ?" 

"  Back  to  uncle  Eric.  Will  you  put  me  in  the  same  hospital 
with  Electra  and  Mrs.  Campbell  ?" 

'*  I  will  put  you  in  a  strait-jacket  !     I  promise  you  that." 

Electra  was  agreeably  surprised  at  the  unusual  warmth  with 
which  Irene  received  her,  some  hours  later  ;  but  little  suspected 
why  the  lips  lingered  in  their  pressure  of  hers,  or  understood  the 
wistful  tenderness  of  the  eyes  which  dwelt  so  fondly  on  her  face. 
The  icy  wall  of  reserve  had  suddenly  melted,  as  if  in  the  breath 
of  an  August  noon,  and  dripped  silently  down  among  things  long 
past.  Russell's  name  was  casually  mentioned  more  than  once, 
and  Electra  fell  asleep  that  night  wholly  unconscious  that  the 


430  "J^ll^^  MACABIA  ;   OB, 


torn  anocrumpled  pages  of  her  heart  had  been  thoroughly  pe- 
rused by  the  woman  from  whom  she  was  most  anxious  to  con- 
ceal the  truth. 

Having  engaged  a  suite  of  rooms  near  the  hospital,  a  few  days 
sufficed  for  preliminary  arrangements,  and  Irene  was  installed  in 
a  ward  of  the  building  to  which  she  had  requested  Dr.  Arnold 
to  appoint  her. 

Thus,  by  different,  by  devious  thorny  paths,  two  sorrowing 
women  emerged  upon  the  broad  highway  of  Duty,  and,  clasping 
liands,  pressed  forward  to  the  divinely-appointed  goal — Woman- 
ly Usefulness. 

Only  those  who  have  faithfully  ministered  in  a  hospital,  can 
fully  appreciate  the  onerous  nj^ture  of  the  burdens  thus  assumed 
— can  realize  the  crushing  anxiety,  the  sleepless  apprehension, 
the  ceaseless  tension  of  brain  and  nerve,  the  gflawing,  intolerable 
sickness  and  aching  of  heart  over  sufferings  which  no  human 
skill  can  assuage  ;  and  the  silent  blistering  tears  which  are  shed 
over  corpses  of  men  whose  families  kneel  in  far  distant  homes, 
praying  God's  mercy  on  dear  ones  lying  at  that  moment  stark 
and  cold  on  hospital  cots  with  strangers'  hands  about  the  loved 
limbs.  Ah  !  within  these  mournful  penetralia  are  perpetually 
recurring  scenes  of  woe,  of  resignation,  and  of  sublime  endurance, 
transcending  in  pathos  aught  that  fiction  ever  painted  ;  and  as 
the  Nation's  martyrs  drop  swiftly  down  into  nameless  billowy 
graves,  that  fret  the  quiet  green  surface  of  our  broad  and  sunny 
land,  the  bleeding  tendrils  of  a  Nation's  sympathy  trail  athwart 
the  rude  head- stones,  and  from  stern  lips  come  the  prophecy  : 

" Let  them  slumber  ! 

No  king  of  Egypt  in  a  pyramid 

Is  safer  from  oblivion,  though  he  number 

Full  seventy  cerements  for  a  coverlid. 

These  Dead  be  seeds  of  life,  and  shall  encumber 

The  sad  heart  of  the  land  until  it  loose 

The  clammy  clods  and  let  out  the  spring  growth 

In  beatic  green  through  every  bruise. 

Each  grave  our  nationality  has  pierced 

By  its  own  majestic  breadth,  and  fortified 

And  pinned  it  deeper  to  the  soil.    Forlorn 

Of  thanks,  be  therefore,  no  one  of  these  graves  !" 


ALTAK8   OF   SACRIFICE.  \^     431 

Day  by  day,  week  after  week,  those  tireless  womcn-\Yaichers 
walked  the  painful  round  from  patient  to  patient,  administering 
food  and  medicine  to  diseased  bodief?,  and^words  of  hope  and  en- 
couragement to  souls,  who  shrank  not  from  the  glare,  and  roar, 
and  carnage  of  battle — but  shivered  and  cowered  before  the  dar- 
ling images  which  deathless  memory  called  from  the  peaceful, 
happy  Past.  It  was  not  wonderful  that  the  home-sick  sufferers 
regarded  them  with  emotions  which  trenched  on  adoration,  or 
that  often,  when  the  pale  thin  faces  lighted  with  a  smile  of  joy 
at  their  approach,  Irene  and  Electra  felt  that  they  had  a  price- 
less reward. 


CHAPTER  XXXIY. 

**  Mother,  I  did  not  flinch  !  They  shot  the  flag  out  of  my 
hand,  and  I  bathed  it  with  my  blood  when  I  fell  on  it.  Here  is 
the  staff — I  held  on  to  the  very  last.  Don't  you  see  it,  mother, 
all  smeared  and  clotted  with  blood  ?" 

Raving  with  delirium,  a  light-haired,  slender  boy  of  seventeen 
summers  struggled  to  rise  from  his  cot,  and,  grasping  a  corner 
of  the  calico  quilt,  stretched  it  toward  Irene,  who  sat  a  few 
yards  off,  spreading  a  blister.  Laying  aside  the  ointment,  she 
approached,  and  took  the  extended  hand. 

"  Yes,  Willie,  I  see  it  ;  and  I  know  you  did  your  duty.  I 
will  take  care  of  the  staff  for  you  ;  now  go  to  sleep." 

"  I  can't  sleep  ;  the  din  of  the  cannon  wakes  me.  I  want  to 
go  home.  Mother,  why  don't  you  carry  me  to  my  own  room, 
my  own  bed,  where  I  can  see  Harry,  and  hear  Jessie  sing  ? 
Help  me  to  my  feet,  mother  ;  I  promised  to  make  a  new  flag- 
staff." 

His  fair,  smooth  cheeks  were  flushed  with  fever  from  the 
wound  received  at  the  battle  of  Seven  Pines,  and  his  beautiful, 
dilated  eyes  gleamed  unnaturally,  as  he  gazed  appealingly  at  the 
tall  form  standing  at  his  pillow — an  elegant,  queenly  form,  clad 


432  ,  MACARIA  ;   OE, 

in  mourning  vestments,  with  spotless  linen  cuffs  and  collar,  and 
white  muslin  apron. 

She  placed  her  pearly  hand  on  his  hot  brow,  and  bent  tender- 
ly over  him. 

"  ]N'ot  to-night,  Willie.  When  you  are  stronger  I  will  carry 
you  to  Harry  and  Jessie.     Kow  you  must  try  to  sleep." 

"  You'll  stay  by  me,  mother,  if  I  shut  my  eyes  ?-' 

"  Yes.     I  will  not  leave  you." 

He  smiled  contentedly  ;  and  while  her  cold  fingers  wandered 
soothingly  over  his  forehead,  the  long  lashes  fell  upon  his  cheeks, 
and  in  delirious  dreaming  he  muttered  on  of  the  conflict  and  in- 
cidents of  carnage.  From  his  entrance  into  the  hospital  he  had 
fancied  her  his  mother,  and  she  fostered  the  only  illusion  which 
could  gild  the  fleeting  hours  of  his  young  life.  His  deeds  of 
daring  had  won  honorable  mention  from  the  Ifrigade  commander, 
and  Irene  had  written  to  his  mother,  in  a  distant  state,  detailinsr 
the  circumstances,  and  urging  her  to  hasten  to  him.  But  to- 
night the  symptoms  showed  that,  ere  the  dawning  of  another  day, 
the  brave  spirit  would  desert  its  boyish  prison. 

"  Give  me  some  water,  please." 

The  feeble  voice  came  from  an  adjoining  cot,  where  lay  an 
emaciated,  wrinkled  old  man,  with  gray  hair  straying  over  the 
pillows  that  propped  him  into  an  almost  upright  posture.  She 
put  the  glass  to  his  trembling  lips,  and,  as  he  drained  it,  tears 
trickled  down  the  furrowed  face. 

"  What  distresses  you,  Mr.  Wheeler  ?  Tell  me,  won't 
you  ?" 

"  I  am  about  to  die,  and  I  long  so  for  the  face  of  my  wife.  If 
I  could  have  seen  her  again,  it  would  not  seem  so  hard.  It  is 
easy  to  die  on  the  battle-field,  and  I  expected  that  when  I  left 
home  ;  but  to  sicken  and  die  in  a  hospital,  away  from  my  family 
and  my  comrades — oh  I  this  is  bitter  I  bitter  !  You  have  been 
kind  to  me — as  gentle  and  good  as  my  own  daughter  Mary 
could  have  been- — and,  if  you  please,  I  would  like  to  send  some 
messages  to  my  people  at  home.  You  have  written  for  me 
once — will  you  do  it  again — and  for  the  last  time  ?" 

"  Certainly,  just  as  often  as  you  like." 


ALTAK3   OF   SACRIFICE.  433 

She  gave  him  a  powerful  stimulant  ;  brought  her  port-folio  to 
the  side  of  the  cot,  and  wrote  at  his  dictation. 

"  Tell  my  wife  I  had  hoped  and  prayed  to  be  spared  to  get 
home  once  more,  but  it  was  n't  the  will  of  God,  and  I  trust  she 
will  try  to  bear  up  like  a  Christian.  I  am  not  afraid  to  die  ;  I 
have  done  my  duty  to  my  God  and  to  ray  country  ;  and  though 
my  heart  clings  to  my  dear  ones,  way  down  in  Mississippi,  I 
know  I  am  going  home  to  rest.  Tell  her  she  must  not  grieve  for 
our  brave  boy,  Joe  ;  he  died  as  a  Confederate  soldier  should.  I 
buried  him  where  he  fell,  and  we  will  soon  meet  where  battles  and 
separation  are  unknown.  I  want  Mary  and  her  children  to  live 
at  home,  and  if  Edward  lives  through  the  war,  he  will  provide 
for  all.  I  want  my  watch  given  to  my  oldest  grandson,  Calvin, 
as  soon  as  he  is  of  age.  I  send  my  love  to  all,  and  especially  to 
my  poor  sister  Emily.  I  send  a  kiss  to  Mary  and  her  children, 
and  to  my  dear,  dear  wife,  whom  I  hope  to  meet  soon  in  hea- 
ven. May  God  bless  and  preserve  them  all,  for  Jesus  Christ's 
sake." 

His  voice  was  weak  and  unsteady,  and  his  breathing  rapid, 
short,  labored. 

As  she  folded  the  letter  and  closed  the  port-folio  the  surgeon 
entered,  and  went  slowly  from  patient  to  patient — speaking  gently 
to  some,  and  feeling  cautiously  at  the  wrists  of  others  who  slept. 
At  the  two  last  cots  he  lingered  long,  and  his  benevolent  face 
saddened  as  he  noted  the  change  that  a  few  hours  had  wrought. 

"  Dr.  Whitmore,  I  have  been  giving  Mr.  Wheeler  strong  egg- 
nog  this  afternoon." 

"  All  perfectly  right,  and  let  him  have  the  ammonia  as  often 
as  his  pulse  indicates  need  of  it." 

He  sighed  heavily,  and  she  followed  him  into  the  passage. 

"  After  all,  Miss  Huntingdon,  we  shall  lose  them  both.  I  had 
such  strong  hope  of  young  Walton  yesterday  ;  but  it  is  of  no  use  ; 
he  will  not  live  till  morning.  Poor  fellow  !  It  is  too  bad  !  too  bad  V 

"  Can  we  do  nothing  more  ?" 

"  Nothing.  I  have  racked  my  brain,  exhausted  my  remedies. 
Wheeler,  too,  is  sinking  very  rapidly,  and  you  must  stimulate 
hhn  constantly.     These  typhoid-pneumonia  cases  are  dishearteu- 

19 


434:  MACARIA  ;   OR, 

ing.  By  the  way,  you  are  over-taxing  your  strength.  Let  me 
send  Martha  down  here  to  relieve  you  to-night.  For  forty-eight 
hours  you  have  not  closed  your  eyes.  Take  some  rest  to-night ; 
your  presence  can  do  no  good  now." 

"  I  prefer  to  remain  ;  how  are  the  cases  up-stairs  ?" 

''Doing. finely,  except  Moorhouse  ;  and  I  have  strong  faith 
in  his  constitution.  I  shall  sit  up  with  him  to-night,  to  watch 
the  effect  of  the  veratrum.  God  bless  you,  Miss  Irene,  you 
have  a  melancholy  watch  before  you." 

As  she  returned  to  her  post,  Andrew  came  in  with  a  pitcher 
of  ice-water  ;  and  after  creeping  across  the  room  several  times, 
arranging  the  covering  on  the  cots,  he  unrolled  his  blankets  on 
the  floor,  and  laid  himself  dowu  to  sleep,  within  reach  of  his 
mistress'  hand. 

It  was  a  long,  low,  rather  narrow  room,  lined  with  rows  of 
cots,  which  stretched  on  either  side  to  the  door,  now  left  open 
to  admit  free  circulation  of  air.  A  muffled  clock  ticked  on  the 
mantle-piece.  Two  soldiers,  who  had  been  permitted  to  visit 
their  sick  comrades,  slumbered  heavily — one  with  head  drooped 
on  his  chest,  the  other  with  chair  tilted  against  the  window-facing, 
and  dark-bearded  face  thrown  back.  The  quivering  flame  of  the 
candle  gleamed  fitfully  along  the  line  of  features — some  youthful, 
almost  childish  ;  others  bearing  the  impress  of  accumulated  years  ; 
some  crimsoned  with  fever,  others  wan  and  glistening  with  the 
dew  of  exhaustion  ;  here  a  forehead  bent  and  lowering,  as  in 
fancy  the  sleeper  lived  over  the  clash  and  shock  of  battle  ;  and 
there  a  tremulous  smile,  lighting  the  stern  manly  mouth,  as  the 
dreamer  heard  again  the  welcome  bay  of  watch-dog  on  the  door- 
step at  home,  and  saw  once  more  the  loved  forms  of  wife  and 
children  springing  joyfully  from  the  cheery  fireside  to  meet  his 
outstretched  arms.  A  few  tossed  restlessly,  and  frequent  incohe- 
rent mutterings  wandered,  waif-like,  up  and  down  the  room, 
sometimes  rousing  Andrew,  who  once  or  twice  lifted  his  head  to 
listen,  and  then  sank  back  to  slumber. 

Before  a  small  pine  table,  where  stood  numerous  vials,  Irene 
drew  her  chair,  and  leaning  forward,  opened  her  pocket-bible, 
and  rested  her  head  on  her  hand. 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  435 

She  heard  the  painful  breathing  of  the  old  man,  who  had  fallen 
into  a  heavy  stupor,  and  as  she  sat  reading  iier  hand  stole  to  his 
feeble  pulse,  pausing  to  count  its  fluttering.  Twice  she  rose, 
administered  the  stimulants,  and  renewed  the  bottles  at  his  feet, 
the  mustard  on  his  wasted  wrists.  Taking  tiie  skeleton  hand  in 
hers,  she  chafed  it  vigorously  ;  but  sixty-three  years  had  worn 
away  the  bonds  of  flesh,  and  the  soul  was  near  its  exodus.  Sor- 
rowfully she  watched  the  sharpening  features,  which  five  weeks 
of  nursing  had  rendered  singularly  familiar  ;  and  as  she  thought 
of  the  aged  wife  to  be  widowed,  and  the  daughter  orphaned, 
memories  of  her  own  father's  kisses  stirred  the  great  depths  of 
her  spirit,  and  tears  gathered  in  her  calm  eyes. 

"Ha  I  ha  !  ha  I  They  will  never  get  to  Richmond  I  John- 
ston is  down  there — and  Longstreet  is  there — and  our  regiment  is 
there  I     Johnston  is  between  them  and  Richmond — ha  1  ha  !" 

The  wounded  boy  started  up,  twirling  one  arm,  as  if  in  the  act 
of  cheering,  and  then  fell  back,  groaning  with  pain  which  the 
violent  effort  cost  him. 

Irene  stooped  over  him,  and  softly  unbuttoning  hJs  shirt-collar, 
removed  the  hot  bloody  cloths  from  his  lacerated  shoulder,  and 
replaced  them  with  fresh  folds  of  linen,  cold  and  dripping.  She 
poured  out  a  glass  of  water  and  lifted  his  head,  but  he  frowned, 
and  exclaimed  : 

"  I  won't  have  it  in  a  tumbler.  Mother,  make  Harry  bring 
me  a  gourdful  fresh  from  the  spring.  I  say — send  Buddie  for 
some." 

She  humored  the  whim,  walked  out  of  the  room,  and  paused 
in  the  passage.  As  she  did  so,  a  dark  form  glided  unperceived 
into  a  dim  corner,  and  when  she  re-entered  the  room  with  the 
gourd  of  water  the  figure  passed  through  the  hall-door  out  into 
the  night. 

"  Here  is  your  gourd,  Willie,  fresh  and  cold." 

He  swallowed  the  draught  eagerly,  and  his  handsome  face 
wore  a  touching  expression  as  he  smiled  and  whispered  : 

"  Hush  !  Jessie  is  singing  nuder  the  old  magnolia  down  by  the 
spring.  Listen  !  '  Fairy  Belle  I'  We  used  to  sing  that  m  camp  ; 
but  nobody  sings  like  Jessie.     So  sweet  I  so  sweet  1" 


436  MACAEIA  ;   OR, 

He  set  his  teeth  hard,  and  shuddered  violently  ;  and  takmg 
his  fingers  in  hers,  she  found  them  clinched. 

"  Andrew  !" 

"  Here  I  am,  Miss  Irene." 

"  Go  up  stairs  and  ask  the  doctor  to  come  here." 

The  surgeon  came  promptly. 

"  I  am  afraid  he  is  going  into  convulsions.  What  shall  I  do 
for  him  ?" 

*'  Yes — just  what  I  have  been  trying  to  guard  against.  I 
fear  nothing  will  do  any  good  ;  but  you  might  try  that  mixture 
which  acted  like  a  charm  on  Leavans." 

'*  Here  is  the  bottle  ;  how  much  shall  I  give  ?" 

"  A  spoonful  every  half  hour  while  the  convulsions  last.  If 
he  can  swallow  it  ;  it  can't  possibly  do  any  harm,  and  may  ease 
his  suffering.  Poor  fellow  I  may  the  vengeance  of  a  righteous 
God  seek  out  his  murderer  !  I  would  stay  here  with  you;  ^liss 
Huntingdon,  if  I  could  render  any  service.  As  it  is,  I  am  more 
needed  up-stairs." 

The  paroxysms  were  short,  but  so  severe  that  occasionally  she 
rcfpiired  Andrew's  assistance,  to  hold  the  sufferer  on  his  cot,  and 
as  they  grew  less  frequent,  she  saw  that  his  strength  failed 
rapidly.  Finally  he  fell  into  a  troubled  sleep,  with  one  hand 
clutching  her  arm. 

Nearly  an  hour  passed  thus,  and  the  nurse  knelt  softly  beside 
her  charge,  and  prayed  long  and  fervently  that  the  soul  of  the 
young  martyr  might  find  its  home  with  God,  and  that  his  far-off 
mourning  mother  might  be  strengthened  to  bear  this  heavy  bur- 
den of  woe.  There,  in  the  shadow  of  death,  the  woman's  spirit 
soared  far  from  sin  and  sorrow,  from  the  stormy  shores  of  Time, 
and  held  holy  communion  with  her  Maker — pleading  for  aid,  for 
grace,  and  resignation  through  the  remaining  years  of  her  earthly 
pilgrimage. 

As  she  knelt  with  her  face  up-turned,  a  soft  warm  palm  was 
laid  upon  her  forehead,  and  a  low,  sweet,  manly  voice  pronounced 
in  benediction  : 

"  May  the  Lord  bless  you,  Irene,  and  abundantly  answer  all 
your  prayers." 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  437 

She  ropc  quickly,  ami  put  out  licr  diseufraG^cd  liand. 

*'  Oil,  Harvey  !  dear  friend  !  Thank  God,  I  have  found  you 
once  more." 

He  lifted  the  candle  and  held  it  near  her  face,  scanning  the 
sculptured  features  ;  then  stooped  and  kissed  her  white  cheek. 

"  I  felt  that  I  could  not  be  mistaken.  I  heard  our  soldiers 
blessing  a  pale  woman  in  black,  with  large  eyes  bluer  than  sum- 
mer skies,  and  hair  that  shone  like  rays  of  a  setting-sun  ;  and  I 
knew  the  silent,  gentle,  tireless  watcher,  before  they  told  her  name. 
For  many  years  I  have  prayed  that  you  might  become  an  instru- 
ment of  good  to  your  fellow-creatures,  and  to-night  I  rejoice  to 
find  you,  at  last,  an  earnest  coworker." 

"  Where  have  you  been  this  long  time,  Harvey  ?  And  how 
is  it  that  you  wear  a  Confederate  uniform  ?" 

"  I  am  chaplain  in  a  Texas  regiment,  and  have  been  with  the 
army  from  the  beginning  of  these  days  of  blood.  At  first  it  was 
a  painful  step  for  me  ;  my  affections,  my  associations,  the  hal- 
lowed reminiscences  of  my  boyhood,  all  linked  my  heart  with 
Xew  York.  My  relatives  and  friends  were  there,  and  I  knew 
not  how  many  of  them  I  might  meet  among  tlic  war-wolves  that 
hung  in  hungry-herds  along  the  borders  of  the  South.  Moreover, 
I  loved  and  revered  the  Union — had  been  taught  to  regard  it  a** 
the  synonyme  of  national  prosperity.  Secession  I  opposed  and 
regretted  at  the  time  as  unwise  ;  but  to  the  dogma  of  consoli- 
dated government  I  could  yield  no  obedience  ;  and  when  every 
sacred  constitutional  barrier  had  been  swept  away  by  Lincoln — 
when  the  habeas  corpus  was  abolished,  and  freedom  of  speech 
and  press  denied — when  the  Washington  conclave  essayed  to  co- 
erce freemen,  to  '  crush  Secession'  through  the  agency  of  the 
sword  and  cannon — then  I  swore  allegiance  to  the  *  Seven 
States'  where  all  of  republican  liberty  remained.  The  fierce  and 
unholy  spirit  of  the  North  appalled  and  disgusted  me.  I  felt 
that  I  could  have  no  connection  with  a  peop'e  who  madly  plunged 
into  a  fratricidal  war,  who  goaded  their  soldiers  to  rapine,  to  the 
massacre  of  women  and  children,  and  who  left  no  means  untried 
to  mflict  upon  the  Cotton-States  all  the  unparalleled  horrors  of  a 
servile  insurrection.     The  billows  of  innocent  blood  which  their 


438  MACARIA  ;    OR, 

fury  shed,  surged  between  us,  as  an  everlasting  gulf.  As  Ruth 
to  Naomi,  so  I  turned  fondly  to  the  fair  free  land  of  my  adop- 
tion and  her  devoted  sons  :  '  Thy  people  shall  be  my  people,  and 
thy  God  my  God.  Where  thou  diest  I  will  die,  and  there  will 
I  be  buried."  Though  I  look  upon  my  mother's  face  no  more 
in  this  world,  and  for  ever  resign  the  consolation  of  my  father's 
blessing  and  my  sister's  smile,  I  shall  never  see  New  York  again. 
My  step  has  j^assed  away  from  the  homestead — my  shadow  from 
the  dear  old  hearthstone.  Henceforth  my  home  is  with  the 
-S^uth  ;  my  hopes  and  destiny  hers  ;  her  sorrows  and  struggles 
mine." 

His  white,  scholarly  hands  were  sunburnt  now  ;  his  bronzed 
complexion,  and  long,  untrimmed  hair  and  beard  gave  a  grim, 
grizzled  aspect  to  the  noble  face  ;  and  the  worn  and  faded  uni- . 
form  showed  an  acquaintance  with  the  positive  hardships  and  ex- 
posure of  an  active  campaign. 

"  I  expected  nothing  less  from  you,  my  brother.  I  felt  that 
our  holy  cause  must  claim  your  sympathy  and  support  ;  and  I 
am  proud,  and  inexpressibly  happy,  to  find  you  in  our  matchless 
and  devoted  army.  You  were  dear  to  me  before  ;  but,  ah,  Har- 
vey I  how  much  dearer  now  in  these  dark  days  of  trial,  which 
you  have  voluntarily  chosen  to  share,  with  a  young,  brave,  strug- 
gling Nation  1" 

His  eyes  dwelt  upon  her  face  as  she  looked  gladly  at  him,  and 
over  her  waving  hair  his  hands  passed  tenderly,  as  they  had 
done  long  years  before,  when  she  was  an  invalid  in  his  father's 
house. 

"  You  have  found  your  work,  and  learned  contentment  in  use- 
fulness, since  that  Spring  day  on  which  we  talked  together,  in 
the  shadow  of  the  wild  cherry  tree.  Irene,  the  peaceful  look  of 
your  childhood  has  come  back  to  your  face." 

"  Yes,  thanks  to  your  guidance,  I  have  found  employment  for 
head  and  hands  ;  but  my  heart  is  not  conquered.  I  have  yet  to 
learn  patient,  perfect  resignation," 

"  You  ought  to  be  grateful  and  happy  for  the  good  you  are 
accomplishing  every  day.  I  hear  much  of  the  influence  you  ex- 
ert here  ;  your  name  is  constantly  on  the  lips  of  many  a  conval- 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  439 

escent ;  and  in  the  dead  of  uight,  in  the  deep  hush  of  carap,  I 
have  listened  to  a  fervent,  tearful  petition  ascending  to  the  Throne 
o-f  Grace  from  an  elderly  man,  who  told  me  he  had  not  prayed 
since  his  childhood,  till  you  knelt  beside  his  cot  iiere  and  asked 
tjrod  to  spare  his  life  to  his  country  and  his  family.  Does  not 
such  blessed  fruitage  content  you  ?" 

"  You  overrate  my  services.  I  try  to  do  my  duty  ;  but  such 
cases  as  these  two  before  us  discourage  me — bow  down  my 
heart." 

"  I  accept  the  estimate  of  those  of  your  countrymen  over  whom 
you  have  watched,  and  prayed,  and  toiled.  True,  it  is  very  mel- 
ancholy to  lose  any  ;  but,  in  such  a  mass,  we  must  not  expect 
to  save  all.  With  my  face  pressed  against  the  window-pane,  I 
have  been  watching  you  for  more  than  an  hour — ever  since  Col. 
Aubrey  came  out — and  I  know  all  the  sadness  of  the  circum- 
stances that  surround  you  ;  how  painful  it  is  for  you  to  see  those 
two  men  die." 

"  Col.  Aubrey  ?     He  has  not  been  here." 

"  Yes  ;  I  passed  him  on  the  steps  ;  we  rode  up  together  from 
camp.  lie  came  on  special  business,  and  returns  at  daylight  ; 
but  I  shall  remain  several  days,  and  hope  to  be  with  you  as  much 
as  the  nature  of  your  engagements  will  permit.  Aubrey  is  from 
W ;  you  know  him,  of  course  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  know  him." 

He  saw  a  shade  of  regret  drift  over  her  countenance,  and 
added  : 

"  I  have  many  things  to  say  to  you,  and  much  to  learn  con- 
cerning your  past  ;  but  this  is  not  the  time  or  place  for  such  in- 
terchange of  thought  and  feeling.  To-morrow  we  will  talk  ;  to- 
night I  could  not  repress  my  impatience  to  see  you,  though  but 
for  a  few  moments." 

They  had  conversed  in  low,  smothered  tones,  and  now,  gently 
unclasping  young  Walton's  fingers,  which  still  grasped  her  arm, 
Irene  went  back  to  the  old  man's  pillow  and  bent  over  the  ghast- 
ly face,  where  the  chill  of  death  had  already  settled. 

"  Feel  how  thready  and  feeble  the  pulse  is  ;  a  few  more  throbs, 
and  the  heart  will  be  stilled.     It  is  hard,  hard  to  see  him  die, 


440  MACARIA  ;   OK, 

after  all  my  care  and  watching.  Five  long  weeks  I  have  nursed 
him,  and  now  this  is  the  end.  Harvey,  pray  for  the  departing 
soul,  that,  through  Christ,  his  salvation  may  be  sure." 

The  chaplain  bowed  his  head,  but  no  sound  broke  the  sad  si- 
lence ;  and  some  moments  after  Irene  laid  her  ivory  fingers  on 
the  lids,  and  pressed  them  down  over  the  glazed  eyes. 

"  He  is  at  rest.  *  "Whosoever  believeth  in  me  shall  never  die,' 
saith  the  Lord.  He  believed,  and  that  comforts  me.  I  have 
talked  and  read  much  to  him  during  his  illness,  and  found  that 
he  had  no  fear  of  eternity.  Another  patriot  gone — another  sonl 
to  bear  witness  before  God  against  our  oppressors 'and  murder- 
ers." 

She  drew  the  sheet  over  the  face  of  the  dead,  and  beckoning 
to  the  two  soldiers  who  now  stood  near,  silent  and  awe-struck, 
they  took  up  the  cot,  and  bore  it  into  a  small  room  adjoining. 

"  Ah,  Irene  !  how  harrowing  such  frequent  spectacles  must 
be.  I  should  think  this  position  would  be  almost  intolerable  to 
one  of  your  keen  sympathies." 

"  How  harrowing,  only  God  knows." 

She  drew  a  chair  near  young  Walton,  and  seating  herself,  con- 
tinued : 

"  It  would  be  intolerable,  but  for  the  conviction  that  I  some- 
times save  lives — lives  precious  to  friends  and  country.  Hard 
as  that  case  may  seem,  this  is  sadder  still.  That  old  man  had 
but  few  years  left  at  best ;  this  boy  stands  on  the  verge  of  man- 
hood, with  the  fair  green  meadows  of  life  stretching  dewy  and 
untrodden  before  him,  enamelled  with  hope,  and  bounded  by 
shining  peaks,  which  his  brave,  ambitious  spirit  panted  to  scale. 
A  mother's  pride  and  solace,  a  sister's  joy,  one  of  a  Nation's 
treasured  guardians,  stricken  down  in  his  first  battle — bathing 
his  country's  riddled  banner  in  his  warm  young  blood.  How 
long — how  long  will  Almighty  God  withhold  his  vengeance  from 
the  wolfish  hordes  who  are  battening  upon  the  blood  of  freemen  ? 
Harvey,  if  there  be  not  a  long  and  awful  retribution  for  that 
Cain-cursed  race  of  New  England,  there  is  neither  justice  nor 
truth  in  high  heaven.  I  have  become  strangely  attached  to  this 
boy.     He  mistakes  me  for  his  mother,  follows  me  eagerly  with 


ALTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  441 

1 

his  eyes,  clin2;s  to  my  dress,  fondles  ray  hands.  Around  his  neck 
is  suspended  a  locket  containing  her  miniature  ;  and  yesterday, 
when  I  dressed  his  wound,  he  felt  for  it — showed  me  how  he 
kissed  it  before  going  into  battle — believing  that  it  would  prove 
a  talisman.  WJiat  harm  could  befall,  with  his  mother's  face  over 
his  heart  ?  Only  a  private  in  the  ranks.  No  stars  and  bars  to 
deck  his  horaespuu  jacket — no  oflBcial  pomp  and  glittering  para- 
phernalia to  please  his  youthful  fancy — none  of  the  gorgeous  ac- 
cessories which  gild  the  'stern  profession,'  like  jewels  on  a  corpse 
— no  badge  of  distinction,  save  his  ghastly  death-wound.  The 
tenderly  nurtured  darling  of  Southern  parents,  cheerful  in  the 
midst  of  unparalleled  hardships,  content  with  meagre  rations,  which 
his  negroes  at  home  would  scornfully  reject,  standing  dreary  watch 
in  snow  and  sleet  and  rain;  with  memories  of  luxury  and  fireside 
joys  tempting  him  from  his  gloomy,  solitary  post — springing  to 
meet  the  columns  of  the  foe  as  though  the  Nation's  fate  depend- 
ed upon  his  individual  valor,  and  asking  but  a  grave  on  the  soil 
he  died  defending.  Only  a  private  in  the  ranks  !  Oh,  to  this 
consecrated  legion,  stretching  like  a  wall  of  flesh  along  the  bor- 
ders of  our  land,  what  a  measureless  debt  we  owe  !  When  In- 
dependence is  obtained,  and  white-robed  Peace  spreads  her  stain- 
less hands  in  blessing  over  us,  let  history  proclaim,  and  let  our 
people  reverently  remember,  that  to  the  uncomplaining  fortitude  - 
and  sublime  devotion  of  the  private  soldiers  of  the  Confederacy, 
not  less  than  to  the  genius  of  our  generals  and  the  heroism  of  our 
subordinate  officers,  we  are  indebted  for  Freedom. 

She  laid  her  head  close  to  the  boy's  mouth  to  listen  to  his  low 
breathing,  and  the  minister  saw  her  tears  Ml  on  his  pillow  and 
gleam  on  his  auburn  locks.  The  delirium  seemed  to  have  given 
place  to  the  dreamless  sleep  of  exhaustion,  and  folding  one  of  her 
hands  around  his  fingers,  with  the  other  she  softly  stroked  the 
silky  hair  from  his  fair,  smooth  forehead. 

"  Irene,  will  my  presence  here  aid  or  comfort  you  ?  If  so,  I 
will  remain  till  morning." 

"  No  ;  you  can  do  no  good.  It  is  midnight  now,  and  you 
must  be  wearied  with  your  long  ride.   You  cannot  help  me  here, 

19* 


442  MACAEIA  ;    OE, 

l3iit  to-morrow  I  shall  want  you  to  go  with  me  to  the  cemetery. 
I  wish  his  family  to  have  the  sad  consolation  of  knowing  that  a 
minister  knelt  at  his  grave,  when  we  laid  the  young  patriot  in 
his  last  resting  place,  Good-by,  my  brother,  till  then.  Electra 
is  in  the  next  room  ;  will  you  go  in  and  speak  to  her  ?" 

"  Xo  ;   I  will  see  her  early  in  the  morning." 

He  left  her  to  keep  alone  her  solemn  vigil  ;  and  through  the 
remaining  hours  of  that  staiTy  June  night  she  stirred  not  from 
the  narrow  cot — kept  her  fingers  on  the  sufferer's  fleeting  pulse 
— her  eyes  on  his  whitening  face.  About  three  o'clock  he  moan- 
ed, struggled  slightly,  and  looked  intently  at  her.  She  gave  him 
some  brandy,  and  found  that  he  swallowed  with  great  difficulty. 

"  Willie,  are  you  in  pain  ?" 

"  Is  it  you,  mother — and  are  we  at  home  ?"  he  asked,  indis- 
tinctly. 

"  You  are  going  home,  Willie  ;  you  will  soon  be  thore." 

"  I  have  not  said  my  prayers  to-night.  Mother,  hold  my 
musket  a  minute." 

He  put  out  his  arm  as  if  to  consign  it  to  her  care,  and  folded 
his  hands  together. 

"  Our  Father,  who  art  in  Heaven,  hallowed  be  thy  name " 

His  voice  sank  to  a  whisper,  inaudible  for  some  seconds  ;  then 
he  paused,  as  if  confused  ;  a  troubled  look  crossed  his  features, 
the  hazel  eyes  filled,  and  the  hands  fell  powerless  on  his  chest. 
Laying  her  hand  on  his  brow,  Irene  slowly  repeated  a  favorite 
psalm  which  had  seemed  to  haunt  his  mind  two  days  before — 
that  psalm  of  promise  :  "  The  Lord  is  my  Shepherd  ;  I  shall  not 
want."  Whether  he  understood  it  now  she  never  knew,  but  his 
fingers  crept  caressingly  to  her  face,  feebly  stroking  her  cheek 
while  she  spoke,  and  when  she  concluded  he  seemed  trying  to  re- 
call something. 

"  Jessie  knows  it  all  ;  I  don't "     Then  came,  indistinctly, 

snatches  of  the  infant  prayer  which  had  been  taught  him  at  his 
truckle-bed  in  the  nursery. 

After  a  short  silence  he  shivered,  and  murmured  : 

"  Corporal  of  the  guard  !  post  number  nine  !     Mother,  it  is 


ALTARS    OF    SAClilFICE.  443 

cold  standing  guard  to-night,  bnt  the  relief  will  soon  be  round. 
Standing  guard mother " 

His  eyes  wandered  around  the  dim  room,  then  slowly  closed, 
as  he  fell  into  the  sleep  that  knew  no  earthly  waking. 

A  sick  man  a  few  yards  off  asked  for  some  water,  and  as  Irene 
received  the  tumbler  from  his  hands  he  said,  under  his  breath  : 

"  He  is  worse  to-night,  isn't  he,  ma'm  V 

"■  Yes.  How  is  that  pain  in  your  side  ?  I  must  put  a  blister 
on  it  if  it  grows  more  severe." 

*'  It  does  not  trouble  me  as  much  as  it  did  about  dark.  How 
is  my  fever  ?" 

"  Not  so  high  by  fifteen  beats.  You  will  be  able  to  take 
quinene  at  seven  o'clock." 

She  snuffed  the  candle  and  resumed  her  seat,  and  again  silence 
reigned— silence  broken  only  by  the  deep  breathing  of  the  pa- 
tients and  the  sudden  jingle  of  the  vials  on  the  table,  as  a  hun- 
gry mouse  ran  among  them,  to  nibble  at  the  open  jar  of  simple 
cerate. 

The  air  grew  chilly  as  a  light  mist  gathered  along  the  James, 
and  finally  the  rumble  of  wheels  on  the  paved  streets  told  that 
people  were  beginning  to  stir  in  the  sleeping  city. 

Slowly  a  half-hour  rolled  away  ;  Irene  could  barely  feel  the 
faint  pulsation  at  Willie  Walton's  wrist,  and  as  she  put  her  ear 
to  his  lips,  a  long,  last  shuddering  sigh  escaped  him — the  battle 
of  life  was  ended.  Willie's  Relief  had  come.  The  young  senti- 
nel passed  to  his  Eternal  Rest. 

"  The  picket 's  off  duty  for  ever." 

Tears  dropped  on  the  still  face  as  the  nurse  cut  several  locks 
of  curling  hair  that  clustered  round  the  boyish  temples,  and  took 
from  the  motionless  heart  the  loved  picture  which  had  been  so 
often  and  so  tenderly  kissed  in  the  fitful  light  of  cami>fires. 
Irene  covered  the  noble  head,  the  fair,  handsome  .features,  with 
her  handkerchief,  and,  waking  Andrew,  pointed  to  the  body — 
left  her  own  ward,  and  entered  one  beyond  the  passage. 

It  was  smaller,  but  similar  in  arrangement  to  the  room  where 
she  had  pas.sed  the  night.*    A  candle  was  sputtering  in  its  socket, 


444  MACARTA  ;    OR, 

and  the  cold,  misty,  white  dawn  stared  in  at  the  eastern  window 
npon  rows  of  cots  and  unquiet,  muttering  sleepers.  There,  in 
the  centre  of  the  room,  with  her  head  bowed  on  the  table,  sat, 
or  rather  leaned,  Electra,  slumbering  soundly,  with  her  scarlet 
shawl  gathered  about  her  shoulders — her  watch  grasped  in  one 
hand,  and  the  other  holding  a  volume  open  at  '*  Hesperid-^Egle." 

Irene  lifted  the  black  curls  that  partially  veiled  the  flushed 
cheek,  and  whispered  : 

"  Electra,  wake  up  !     I  am  going  home." 

"  Is  it  light  yet,  out  of  doors  ?  Ah,  yes — I  see  I  I  have 
been  asleep  exactly  fifteen  minutes — gave  the  last  dose  of  medi- 
cine at  four  o'clock.  How  are  those  two  men  ?  I  am  almost 
afraid  to  ask." 

"  Dead.     Willie  lived  till  dayliglit.     Both  dead." 

*'  Oh  !  how  sad  !  how  discouraging  !  I  went  to  your  door 
twice  and  looked  in,  but  once  you  were  praying,  and  the  last 
time  you  had  your  face  down  on  Willie's  pillow,  and  as  I  could 
do  nothing,  I  came  back.  Dr.  Whitmore  told  me  they  would 
die,  and  it  only  made  me  suffer  to  look  at  what  I  could  not  re- 
lieve. I  am  thankful  my  cases  are  all  doing  well  ;  that  new 
prescription  has  acted  magically  on  Mr.  Hadley  yonder,  who  has 
pneumonia.     Just  feel  his  skin — soft  and  pleasant  as  a  child's." 

"  I  have  some  directions  to  leave  with  Martha,  about  giving 
quinine  before  the  doctor  comes  down,  and  then  I  shall  go  home. 
Are  you  ready  ?" 

"  Yes.  I  have  a  singular  feeling  about  my  temples,  and  an 
oppression  when  I  talk — shouldn't  wonder  if  I  have  caught 
cold." 

"Electra,  did  you  see  Harvey  last  night  ?" 

"  Xo.     Where  did  he  come  from  ?" 

"  He  is  chaplain  in  a  regiment  near  Richmond,  and  said 
he  would  see  us  both  this  morning.  Was  Russell  here  last 
night  ?" 

"Russell?  Xo.  Why  do  you  ask?  Is  he  in  the  city?^ 
Have  you  seen  him  V^ 

She  rose  quickly,  laid  her  hand  on  Irene's,  and  looked  search- 
ingly  at  her. 


ALTARS    OF    8ACRTFICE.  445 

"  I  have  not  seen  him,  but  your  cousin  Harvey  mentioned  that 
Col.  Aubrey  came  up  with  him,  on  some  very  important  errand, 
and  had  but  a  few  hours  to  remain.  I  will  get  my  shawl  and 
join  you  in  five  minutes.  Electra,  you  must  stay  at  home  and 
rest  for  a  day  or  two  ;  you  are  feverish,  and  worn  out  with  con- 
stant watching." 


CHAPTER  XXXY. 

"  It  is  a  mercy  that  she  is  delirious  ;  otherwise  her  unavoidable 
excitement  and  anxiety  would  probably  prove  fatal.  She  is  very 
ill,  of  course  ;  but,  with  careful  nursing,  I  think  you  have  little 
to  apprehend.  Above  all  things,  Irene,  suffer  nobody  to  bolt  into 
that  room  with  the  news — keep  her  as  quiet  as  possible.  I  have 
perfect  confidence  in  Whitmore's  skill  ;  he  will  do  all  that 
I  could,  though  I  would  not  leave  her  if  I  did  not  feel  it  my  duty 
to  hurry  to  the  battle-field.  Queen,  you  look  weary  ;  but  it  is 
not  strange,  after  all  that  you  have  j^assed  through." 

"  Doctor,  when  will  you  start  ?" 

"  In  twenty  minutes." 

"  Has  any  intelligence  been  received  this  morning  ?" 

"  Nothing  but  confirmation  of  last  night's  news.  Hill  holds 
Mechanicsville,  and  the  enemy  have  fallen  back  in  the  direction 
of  Po white  Swamp.  A  general  advance  will  be  made  all  along 
our  lines  to-day,  and  I  must  be  off.  What  is  the  matter? 
Surely  you  are  not  getting  frightened." 

"  Frightened — Dr.  Arnold  ?  No.  I  have  no  fears  about  the 
safety  of  Richmond  ;  defeat  is  not  written  in  Lee's  lexicon  ; 
but  I  shudder  in  view  of  the  precious  human  hecatombs  to  be 
immolated  on  yonder  hills  before  McClellan  is  driven  back.  No 
doubt  of  victory  disquiets  me,  but  the  thought  of  its  awful 
price." 

She  shaded  her  face,  and  shuddered. 

"  Cheer  up,  child.     We  may  make  quicker  work  of  it  than 


44:6  MACAEIA  ;   OR, 

you  seem  to  imagine.  But  suppose  reverses  should  overtake  us, 
what  would  you  do  ?" 

"  I  shall  remain  here  as  long  as  a  man  or  woman  is  left  to 
attend  to  the  wounded  ;  and  if — which  God  forbid  ! — our  army 
should  be  forced  back  by  overwhelming  numbers,  I  rejoice 
to  know  tliat  the  spirit  of  '  Ediuburg  after  Fodden'  will  be  found 
in  Richmond.  Northern  banners  shall  never  flaunt  over  our 
capital,  tainting  the  atmosphere  we  breathe  ;  in  such  dire  emer- 
gency the  people  are  resolved,  and  we  will  chant  the  grand  words 
of  Aytoun,  as  we  gather  round  our  magnificent  national  pyre. 

'  'T  were  better  that  in  fiery  flame  the  roofs  should  thunder  down, 
Than  that  the  foot  of  foreign  foe  should  trample  in  the  town  ! 

Though  the  ramparts  rock  beneath  us,  and  the  walls  go  crashing  down, 
Though  the  roar  of  conflagration  bellow  o'er  the  sinking  town  ; 
There  is  j-et  one  place  of  shelter,  where  the  foeman  cannot  come, 
"Where  the  summons  never  sounded,  of  the  trnmpet  or  the  drum. 
There  shall  we  find  rest  and  refuge,  with  our  dear  departed  brave  ; 
And  the  ashes  of  the  city  be  our  universal  grave  !' 

"  I  repeat  it.  Doctor — not  the  fate  of  Richmond  troubles  me — 
for  I  have  not  a  shadow  of  doubt  that  God  will  give  us  victory  ; 
but  the  thought  of  the  lives  to  be  yielded  up  in  its  defense.  As 
a  nation,  we  shall  rejoice  ;  but,  ah  !  the  desolation  hovering 
over  thousands  of  happy  home-circles,  ready  to  swoop  down, 
darkening  peaceful  hearthstones  for  all  time.  What  a  burden 
of  wailing  woe  this  day  will  bear  to  the  ears  of  a  pitying 
'  God!" 

"  True,  it  is  an  awful  reflection  ;  but  we  have  counted  the 
cost,  and  it  will  not  do  to  repine.  Extermination,  rather  than 
submission  to  their  infamous  tyranny.  Hampden's  immortal 
motto  has  become  our  own  :  *  Vestigia  nulla  retrorsum  P    But 

I  must  go,  Queen,      I  wish  you  were  safely  back  in  W , 

away  from  these  horrors  that  so  sicken  your  soul.  Child,  take 
care  of  yourself.  Have  you  anything  more  to  say  ?  Talk 
fast." 

"  I  directed  Andrew  to  give  Cyrus  a  small  box  of  cordials, 
which  I  received  yesterday  from  home.  You  may  find  use 
for  it." 


ALTARS    OF   SACKIFICK.  447 

She  panscil,  and  lier  whole  face  quivoi-fd  as  she  laid  her  clasped 

hands  on  his  arm. 

"  Well — wJKit  is  it  ?     Dear  child,  what  moves  you  so  ?" 
"Doctor,   promise   me  that  if  Colonel  Aubrey  is   mortally 

wounded  you  will  send  instantly  for  me.      I  must  see  him  once 

more." 

Her  liead  went  down  on  her  hands,  and  she  trembled  as  white 
asters  do  in  an  early  autumn  gale.  Compassionately  the  old  man 
drew  one  arm  around  her. 

"  After  all,  then,  you  do  care  for  him — despite  your  life-long 
reserve  and  apparent  indifference  ?  I  have  suspected  as  mucli, 
several  times,  but  that  imperturbable  sphinx-face  of  yours  always 
baffled  n^e.  My  child,  you  need  not  droop  your  head  ;  he  is 
worthy  of  your  love  ;  he  is  the  only  man  I  know  whom  I  would 
gladly  see  you  marry.  Irene,  look  up— tell  me— did  Leonard 
know  this  ?  Conscious  of  your  affection  for  Aubrey,  did  he  doom 
you  to  your  lonely  lot  ?" 

"Xo.  My  father  died  in  ignorance  of  what  would  have 
pained  and  mortified  him  beyond  measure.  Knowing  him  as 
well  as  you  do,  can  you  suppose  that  I  would  ever  have  allowed 
him  to  suspect  the  truth  ?  I  realized  my  duty  and  fulfilled  it  ; 
that  is  the  only  consolation  I  have  left.  It  never  caused  him 
one  throb  of  regret,  or  furnished  food  for  bitter  reflection  :  and 
the  debt  of  respect  I  owe  to  his  memory  shall  be  as  faithfully  dis- 
charged. If  Colonel  Aubrey  lives  to  enjoy  the  independence  for 
which  he  is  fighting— if  he  should  be  spared  to  become  a  useful, 
valued  member  of  society— one  of  the  pure  and  able  statesmen 
whom  his  country  will  require  when  these  dark  days  of  strife  arc 
ended  ;  I  can  be  content,  though  separated  from  him,  and  watch- 
ing his  brilliant  career  afar  off.  But  if  he  must  give  his  life  for 
that  which  he  holds  dearer  still,  I  ask  the  privilege  of  seeing  him 
again,  of  being  with  him  in  his  last  moments.  This  consolation 
the  brave  spirit  of  my  father  would  not  withhold  from  me,  were 
communion  allowed  between  living  and  dead  ;  this  none  can  have 
the  right  to  deny  me." 

"  If  such  be  your  stern  and  melancholy  resolution,  what  hap- 
piness can  the  future  contain  ?"    • 


448  MACARIA  ;   OR, 

"My  future  holds  the  hope  of  promoting  God's  glory,  and  of 
contributing,  as  far  as  one  feeble  woman  can,  to  the  happiness 
and  weal  of  her  fellow-creatures.  I  cheat  myself  with  no  delu- 
sive dreams  ;  I  know  that  my  way  is,  and  ever  must  be,  lonely  ; 
but,  putting  my  trust  in  Him  who  never  yet  withheld  strength 
and  guidance  in  the  hour  of  need,  I  say  to  myself  : 

"  '  0,  pusillanimons  Heart,  be  comforted — 
And  like  a  cheerful  traveler,  take  the  road. 
Singing  beside  the  hedge.'  " 

The  doctor  gathered  up  her  hands  in  his,  and  said,  coax- 
ingly— 

"  May  I  tell  Aubrey  all  this  ?  it  will,  at  least,  comfort  him  in 
some  degree." 

"  No  ;  you  must  tell  him  nothing.  I  know  what  is  best  for 
him,  and  for  me." 

"  Oh,  child  !  what  harm  could  come  of  it  ?" 

"  Ask  me  no  more  ;  but  give  me  the  promise  to  send  a  mes- 
senger, if  he  should  be  severely,  dangerously  wounded." 

**  I  promise  that  you  shall  know  all  as  early  as  possible.  If 
you  receive  no  tidings,  believe  that  he  is  uninjnred.  As  yet,  his 
regiment  has  not  moved  forward,  but  I  know  not  how  soon  it 
may.     Heaven  preserve  you  !  my  precious  child." 

He  pressed  a  kiss  on  the  drooped  head,  and  left  her  to  resume 
her  watch  in  the  darkened  room  where  Eiectra  had  been  ill  with 
typhoid-fever  for  nearly  three  weeks.  It  was  thought  that  she 
contracted  the  disease  in  the  crowded  hospital  ;  and  when  deli- 
rium ensned,  Irene  temporarily  relinquished  her  ward  to  other 
nurses,  and  remained  at  the  boarding-house,  in  attendance  on  her 
friend.  It  was  a  season  of  unexampled  anxiety,  yet  all  was  sin- 
gularly quiet  in  the  beleaguered  city.  Throuirhout  the  Confed- 
eracy hushed  expectar.cy  reigned.  Gallant  Ticksburg's  batteries 
barred  the  Mississii^pi  ;  Beauregard  and  Price,  lion-hearted  idols 
of  the  West,  held  the  Federal  army  in  Corinth  at  bay  ;  Stone- 
wall Jackson — synonyme  of  victory — after  swepping  like  a  whirl- 
wind through  the  Valley,  and  scattering  the  columns  that 
stealthily  crept  southward,  had  ai'rived  at  Riclimond  at  the  ap 


AXTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  449 

pointed  time.  A  greater  than  Serrurier,  at  a  grander  than  Cas- 
tigh:)ne,  he  gave  tlie  signal  to  begin  ;  and  as  a  siieet  of  flame 
flashed  along  the  sombre  forests  of  Chickahominy,  tlie  nation  held 
its  breath,  and  watched  the  death-grapple  of  bannered  armies 
around  its  proud  young  capital.  Tliank  God  !  we  had  no  cra- 
vens there  to  jeopardize  our  cause  ;  the  historic  cycle  had 
revolved,  and  heroic  ages  dawned  again.  Neither  ancient, 
mediaeval,  nor  modern  lore  can  furnish  a  parallel  for  the  appaling 
panorama  of  blood  and  fire  which  stretched  from  Mechanicsville 
to  Westover — for  the  brilliant  Seven  Days'  conflict,  which 
converted  twenty-six  miles  of  swamp  and  forest  into  a  vast 
necropolis. 

During  Friday  the  wounded  came  slowly  in,  and  at  four  in  the 
afternoon  the  roar  of  artillery  told  that  the  Battle  of  Gaines  Mill 
was  raging  :  that  the  enemy  were  fighting  desperately,  behind 
entrenchments  whicli  none  but  Confederate  soldiers  could  success- 
fully have  assaulted.  Until  eight  at  night  the  houses  trembled 
at  every  report  of  cannon,  and  then  McClellan's  grand  army, 
crippled  and  bleeding,  dragged  itself  away,  under  cover  of  dark- 
ness, to  the  south  bank  of  the  Chickahominy.  J^aturday  saw  a 
temporary  lull  in  the  iron  storm  ;  but  the  wounded  continued  to 
arrive,  and  the  devoted  women  of  the  city  rose  from  their  knees 
to  minister  to  the  needs  of  these  numerous  sufferers.  Sunday 
found  our  troops  feehng  about  the  swamps  for  the  retreating  foe; 
and  once  more,  late  in  the  afternoon,  distant  thunder  resounded 
from  the  severely-contested  field  of  Savage's  Station,  whence  the 
enemy  again  retreated. 

On  Sabbath  morning  Irene  learned  that  Rn=!sell's  command 
had  joined  in  the  pursuit  ;  and  during  that  day  and  night,  as  the 
conflict  drifted  farther  southward,  and  details  became  necessarily 
more  meagre,  her  anxiety  increased.  Continually  her  lips  moved 
in  prayer,  as  she  glided  from  Electra's  silent  room  to  aid  in  dress- 
ing the  wounds  of  those  who  had  been  disabled  for  further  parti- 
cipation in  the  strife  ;  and,  as  Monday  passed  without  the  receipt 
of  tidings  from  Dr.  Arnold,  she  indulged  in  the  hope  that  Rus- 
sell would  escape  uninjured.  During  Tuesday  morning  Electra 
seemed  to  have  recovered  her  consciousness,  but  in  the  afternoon 


450  MACARTA  ;   OR, 

she  relapsed  into  incolierent  mntteringof  "  Cyup,"  "  Correggio," 
"  Titan's  Bella,"  and  "  my  best,  great  picture  left  in  Florence." 

Irene  was  sitting  at  her  bedside,  rolling  bandages,  when  the 
sudden,  far-distant,  dull  boom  of  cannon,  followed  by  the  quick 
rattling  of  the  window-panes,  gave  intimation  that  the  long  con- 
test was  fiercely  renewed.  Prophetic  dread  seized  her  ;  the 
hideous  To-Come  scowled  at  her  in  the  distance  ;  and,  as  the  roll 
of  cloth  dropped  from  her  fingers,  she  covered  her  eyes  to  shut  out 
the  vision  of  horror.  The  long  evening  hours  crept  by  in  mourn- 
ful procession — trooping  phantom-shadows  filled  the  room — night 
fell  at  last,  an  unheeded  flag  of  truce — and  people  stood  in  their 
doors,  at  their  windows,  many  clustered  on  the  pavements,  lis- 
tening in  solemn  silence  to  the  fiend-like  roar  of  the  fifty  pieces  of 
artillery  that,  like  a  fiery  crescent,  crowned  Malvern  Hill.  A 
courier  had  arrived  with  intelligence  that  hei'c  the  enemy's  forces 
were  very  strongly  posted,  were  making  desperate  resistance  ; 
and  though  no  doubt  of  the  result  was  entertained,  human  nature 
groaned  over  the  carnage. 

At  ten  o'clock,  having  given  a  potion,  and  renewed  the  folds 
of  wet  linen  on  Electra's  head,  Irene  stole  back  to  the  window, 
and,  turning  the  shutters,  looked  down  the  street.  Here  and 
there  an  anxious  group  huddled  on  the  corners,  with  ears  strain- 
ed to  catch  every  sound,  and,  while  she  watched,  a  horseman 
clattered  at  a  hard  gallop  over  the  paving-stones,  reined  up  at 
the  door  of  the  boarding-house,  swung  himself  to  the  side-walk, 
and  an  instant  after  the  sharp  clang  of  the  bell  rang  startlingly 
through  the  still  mansion. 

"  Oh,  my  God  !     It  has  come  at  last  !" 

Irene  groaned,  and  leaned  heavily  against  the  window-facing  ; 
ajid  quick  steps  came  up  the  stairway — Martha  entered,  and  held 
out  a  slip  of  paper. 

"  Miss  Irene,  Cyrus  has  just  brought  this." 

Her  mistress'  icy  fingers  clutched  it,  and  she  read  : 

"  Come  at  once.  '  Aubrey  is  badly  wounded.  Cyrus  will  show 
the  way. 

*'  Hiram  Arnold.^' 


ALTARS   OF   SACRTFICE.  451 

"  Yon  arc  .Q:oing  to  faint,  Miss  Irene  !  Drink  some  of  this 
cordial  !" 

"No.  Tell  Andrew  to  go  after  the  carriage  as  quick  as  pos- 
sil)le,  and  have  it  brought  here  immediately  ;  and  ask  uncle  Eric 
to  come  to  my  room  at  once." 

Irene  went  to  her  own  apartment  which  adjoined  Electra's, 
put  on  her  bonnet  and  veil,  and,  though  the  night  was  warm, 
wrapped  a  shawl  about  her. 

Mr.  Mitchell  entered  soon  after,  and  started  at  sight  of  his 
niece's  face. 

"  Irene,  what  does  this  mean  ?  Where  are  you  going  at  tliis 
hour  ?" 

"  To  the  battle-field  ! — to  Malvern  Hill.  Colonel  Aubrey  is 
mortally  wounded,  and  I  must  see  him.  Will  you  go  with  me  ? 
Oh,  uncle  Eric  !  if  you  have  any  mercy  in  your  soul  ask  me  no 
questions  now  !  only  go  with  me." 

"  Of  course,  my  dear  child,  I  will  go  with  you,  if  it  is  possible 
to  procure  a  carriage  of  any  kind.     I  will  see — ." 

**  I  have  had  one  engaged  for  three  days.  Martha,  stay  with 
Electra  till  I  come  back  ;  leave  her  on  no  account.  If  you  no- 
tice any  change^  send  for  Dr.  Whitmore.  Here  is  my  watch  ; 
count  her  pulse  carefully,  and  as  long  as  it  is  over  one  hundred, 
give  her,  every  two  hours,  a  spoonful  of  the  medicine  in  that 
square  vial  on  the  table.  I  trust  to  you,  Martha,  to  take  care 
of  lier.  If  she  should  be  rational,  and  ask  for  me,  tell  her  no- 
thing about  the  battles,  and  say  I  have  gone  to  see  a  sick  man, 
and  will  be  back  soon.     Come,  uncle  Eric." 

They  entered  the  close  carriage  which  she  had  ordered  reserved 
for  her,  and  she  called  Cyrus  to  the  door. 

"  Did  you  see  Colonel  Aubrey  after  he  was  wounded  ?" 

*'  I  only  had  a  glimpse  of  him,  as  they  brought  him  in.  Miss 
Irene,  he  was  shot  in  the  breast." 

"  You  know  the  way  ;  ride  outside  ;  and,  Cyrus,  drive  as  fast 
as  possible." 

The  night  was  gloomy  and  spectral  as  Sheol,  and  the  wind 
sobbed  a  miserere  through  the  sombre  forests  that  bordered  tlie 
road,  which  was  now  crowded  with  vehicles  of  all  descriptions 


452  MACAETA  ;   OR, 

liastening  to  and  returning  from  the  field  of  action.  Under  ordi- 
nary circumstances,  with  no  obstacles  intervening,  it  was  a  long 
ride  ;  and  to  Irene  the  way  seemed  interminable.  Daring  the 
first  hour  utter  silence  reigned  within  the  carriage,  and  then,  as 
the  driver  paused  to  allow  an  ambulance  to  pass,  Eric  put  his 
hand  on  his  niece's  arm  and  said,  tenderly  : 

"  Irene,  why  did  you  deceive  me  so  long  ?  Why  could  you 
not  trust  your  uncle's  love  ?" 

She  shrank  farther  back  in  one  corner,  and  answered  w^ith  a 
voice  which  he  could  scarcely  recognize  as  hers. 

"  If  you  love  me,  spare  me  all  questions  now." 

By  the  glimmer  of  the  carriage-lamps  she  could  see  the  wagons 
going  to  and  fro,  some  filled  with  empty  coffins,  some  witli  man- 
gled sufferers.  Now  and  then  weary,  spent  soldiers  sat  on  the 
roadside,  or  struggled  on  toward  the  city  whicii  tliey  had  saved, 
with  their  arms  in  slings,  or  hands  bound  up,  or  bloody  band- 
ages across  their  stern  faces.  After  another  hour,  when  the  in- 
creasing number  of  men  showed  proximity  to  the  scene  of  dan- 
ger, Cyrus  turned  away  from  the  beaten  track,  and  soon  the 
flash  of  lights  and  the  hum  of  voices  told  that  they  were  near 
the  place  of  destination.  The  carriage  stopped,  and  Cyrus  came 
to  the  door. 

"  We  are  at  the  lines,  and  I  can't  drive  any  nearer.  If  you 
will  wait,  I  will  go  and  find  Master. 

It  was  one  o'clock  ;  and  as  they  waited,  men  passed  and  re- 
passed with  blazing  torches,  some  bearing  wounded  men,  whose 
groans  rose  above  the  confusion.  The  cannonading  had  long 
ceased,  and  Eric  called  to  a  group  of  soldiers  belonging  to  the 
Infirmary  corps. 

"What  is  the  last  news  from  the  front  ?  Have  the  enemy 
fallen  back  ?" 

"  Not  yet  ;  but  they  are  getting  ready  to  run  again  as  usual. 
By  daylight  they  will  be  out  of  sight,  and  we  shall  be  all  day  to- 
morrow hunting  them  up.  Their  style  is  to  fight  about  three 
hours,  and  run  the  balance  of  the  twenty-four  hours.  They  take 
to  the  swamps  like  all  other  such  miserable  varments." 

The  delay  seemed  intolerably  long,  and  for  the  first  time  an 


ALTARS   OF  SACRIFICE.  453 

audible  moan  escaped  Irene  just  as  Cyrus  came  back  accom- 
panied by  a  mufBed  figure. 

"Irene,  my  child." 

Slie  leaned  out  till  her  fixce  nearly  touched  Dr.  Arnold's. 

"  Only  tell  me  that  he  is  alive,  and  I  can  bear  all  else." 

"  He  is  alive,  and  sleeping  just  now.  Can  you  control  your- 
self if  I  take  you  to  him  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  you  need  not  fear  that  I  will  disturb  him.  Let  me 
go  to  him." 

He  gave  her  his  arm,  and  led  her  through  the  drizzling  rain 
for  some  distance — avoiding  as  much  as  possible,  the  groups  of 
wounded,  where  surgeons  were  at  their  sad  work.  Finally,  be- 
fore a  small  tent,  he  paused,  and  whispered  : 

"  Xerve  yourself,  dear  child." 

"Is  there  no  hope  ?" 

She  swept  aside  her  long  mourning  veil,  and  gazed  imploringly 
into  his  face. 

Tears  filled  his  eyes,  and  hastily  averting  his  head,  he  raised 
the  curtain  of  the  tent  and  drew  her  inside. 

A  candle  burned  dimly  in  one  corner,  and  there,  on  a  pallet  of 
straw,  over  which  a  blanket  had  been  thrown,  lay  the  powerful 
form  of  the  dauntless  leader,  whose  deeds  of  desperate  daring 
had  so  electrified  his  worshiping  command  but  a  few  hours  be- 
fore. The  noble  head  was  pillowed  on  a  knapsack  \  one  hand 
pressed  his  heart,  while  the  other  drooped  nerveless  at  his  side, 
and  the  breast  of  his  coat  was  saturated  with  blood,  which  at  in- 
tervals oozed  through  the  bandages  and  dripped  upon  the  straw. 
The  tent  was  silent  as  a  cemetery,  and  not  a  sound  passed  Irene's 
white,  fixed  lips  as  she  bent  down  and  looked  upon  the  loved 
face,  strangely  beautiful  in  its  pallid  repose.  The  shadowy  wings 
of  the  bitter  By-gone  hovered  no  longer  over  the  features,  dark- 
ening their  chiselled  perfection  ;  a  tranquil  half-smile  parted  the 
lips,  and  unbent  the  lines  between  the  finely-arched  black  brows. 
Sinking  softly  on  the  floor  of  the  tent,  Irene  rested  her  chin 
on  her  folded  hands,  and  calmly  watched  the  deep  sleep.  So 
passed  three-quarters  of  an  hour  ;  then,  as  Dr.  Arnold  cautiously 
put  his  fingers  on  the  pulse,  the  sufferer  opened  his  eyes. 


4-54  MACAEIA  ;    OR, 

Irene  was  partially  in  the  shade,  but  as  she  leaned  forward,  a 
sudden,  bewildered  smile  lighted  his  countenance  ;  he  started  up, 
and  extended  one  arm. 

"  Irene  !  My  darling  I  Do  I  dream,  or  are  you  indeed  with 
me  ?" 

"  I  have  come  to  nurse  you,  Kussell  ;  but  if  you  do  not  calm 
yourself,  the  doctor  will  send  me  away." 

She  took  the  outstretched  hand  ia  both  of  hers,  and  pressed 
her  lips  repeatedly  upon  it. 

"  Come  close  to  me.  I  am  helpless  now,  and  can  not  go  to 
you." 

She  seated  herself  on  the  edge  of  the  straw,  laid  her  shawl  in 
her  lap,  and  lifting  his  head,  rested  it  on  the  soft  woollen  folds. 
Dr.  Arnold  removed  the  warm  cloth  soaked  with  blood,  placed 
a  cold,  dripping  towel  on  the  gaping  wound,  and  after  tightening 
the  bandages  to  check  the  hemorrhage,  passed  out  of  the  tent, 
leaving  the  two  alone. 

"  Oh,  Irene  !  this  is  a  joy  I  never  hoped  for.  I  went  at  night  to 
the  hospital  in  Richmond  just  to  get  a  glimpse  of  you — to  feast 
my  eyes  with  another  sight  of  your  dear,  dear  face  !  I  watched 
you  ministering  like  an  augel  to  sick  and  wounded  soldiers,  and 
I  envied  them  the  touch  of  your  hand — the  sound  of  your  voice. 
I  little  expected  to  die  in  your  arms.  This  reconciles  me  to  my 
fate  ;  this  compensates  for  all." 

Her  fingers  tenderly  smoothed  the  black  locks  that  clung  to 
his  temples,  and  bending  down  she  kissed  his  forehead.  His  un- 
injured arm  stole  up  around  her  neck,  drew  her  face  to  his,  and 
his  lips  pressed  hers  again  and  again. 

"  Dear  Russell,  you  must  be  quiet,  or  you  will  exhaust  your- 
self.    Try  to  sleep — it  will  refresh,  strengthen  you." 

"  Nothing  will  strengthen  me.  I  have  but  a  short  time  to 
live  ;  shall  I  sleep  away  the  opportunity  of  my  last  earthly 
communion  with  you,  my  life-long  idol  !  Oh,  Irene  !  my  beau- 
tiful treasure  !  This  proof  of  your  love  sweetens  death  itself. 
There  have  been  hours  (ever  since  we  parted  a  year  ago)  when  I 
rrpruached  you  for  the  sorrow  and  pain  you  sternly  meted  out  to 
me,  and  to  yourself.     When  I  said  bitterly,  if  die  loved  as  she 


AiTARS    OF    SACRIFICE.  465 

should,  she  would  level  all  barriers — she  would  lay  her  hands  in 
mine — glorify  my  name  by  taking  it  as  my  wife,  and  thus  defy 
and  cancel  the  past.  I  was  selfish  in  my  love  ;  I  wanted  you  in 
my  home  ;  I  longed  for  the  soft  touch  of  your  fingers,  for  your 
proud,  dazzling  smile  of  welcome  when  the  day's  work  was  ended  ; 
for  the  privilege  of  drawing  you  to  my  heart,  and  listening  to 
your  whispered  words  of  encouragement  and  fond  congratulation 
on  my  successes.  I  knew  that  this  could  never  be  ;  that  your 
Tcneration  for  your  father's  memory  would  separate  us  in  future, 
as  in  the  past  ;  that  my  pleadhigs  would  not  shake  your  unfor- 
tunate and  erroneous  resolution  ;  and  it  was  hard  to  give  up  the 
dearest  hope  that  ever  brightened  a  lonely  man's  life.  Now  I 
know,  I  feel  that  your  love  is  strong,  deathless  as  my  own, 
though  long  locked  deep  in  your  heart.  I  know  it  by  the  anguish 
in  your  face,  by  the  quiver  of  your  mouth,  by  your  presence  in 
this  place  of  horrors.  God  comfort  and  bless  you,  my  own  dar- 
ling ! — my  brave,  patient,  faithful  Irene  !" 

lie  smiled  triumphantly,  and  drew  her  hand  caressingly  across 
his  cheek. 

"  Russell,  it  is  useless  now  to  dwell  upon  our  sorrowful  past ; 
what  suffering  our  separation  has  cost  me,  none  but  my  God  can 
ever  know.  To  His  hands  I  commit  my  destiny,  and  '  He  doeth 
all  things  well.'  In  a  little  while  you  will  leave  me,  and  then — 
oh  I  then,  I  shall  be  utterly  desolate  indeed  !  But  I  can  bear 
loneliness— I  can  walk  my  dreary  earthly  path  uncomplainingly, 
I  can  give  you  up  for  the  sake  of  my  country,  if  I  have  the 
blessed  assurance  that  you  have  only  hastened  home  before  me, 
waiting  for  me  there — that,  saved  through  Christ,  we  shall  soon 
meet  in  Heaven,  and  spend  Eternity  together.  Oh,  Russell  !  can 
you  give  me  this  consolation,  without  which  my  future  will  be 
dark  indeed  ?  Have  you  kept  your  promise,  to  live  so  that  you 
could  at  last  meet  the  eyes  of  your  God  in  peace  ?" 

"  I  have.  I  have  struggled  against  the  faults  of  my  character  ; 
]  have  earnestly  endeavored  to  crush  the  vindictive  feelings  of 
my  heart  ;  and  I  have  conscienciously  tried  to  do  my  duty  to  my 
fellow-creatures,  to  my  command,  and  my  country.  I  have  read 
the  Bible  you  gave  me  ;  aild,  dearest,  in  praying  for  you,  I  have 


456  macarta;  or 


learned  to  pray  for  myself.  Through  Jesus,  I  have  a  sure  hope 
of  happiness  beyond  the  grave.  There,  though  separated  in  life, 
you  and  I  shall  be  united  by  death.  Oh,  Irene  1  but  for  your 
earnest  piety  this  precious  anticipation  might  never  have  been 
mine.  But  for  you  I  would  have  forgotten  my  mother's  precepts 
and  my  mother's  prayers.  Through  your  influence  I  shall  soon 
join  her,  where  the  fierce  waves  of  earthly  trial  can  lash  my  proud 
soul  no  more." 

"  Thank  God  I  Oh,  Russell  !  this  takes  away  the  intolerable 
bitterness  of  parting  ;  this  will  support  me  in  coming  years.  I 
can  brave  all  things  in  future." 

She  saw  that  a  paroxysm  of  pain  had  seized  him.  His  brow 
wrinkled,  and  he  bit  his  lips  hard,  to  suppress  a  groan.  Just  at 
this  moment  Dr.  Arnold  re-entered,  and  immediately  after  gave 
him  another  potion  of  morphene. 

"  Aubrey,  you  must  be  quiet,  if  you^ould  not  shorten  your 
life." 

He  silently  endured  his  sufferings  for  some  moments,  and, 
raising  his  eyes  again  to  Irene's,  said,  in  a  tone  of  exhaustion  : 

"  It  is  selfish  for  me  to  make  you  witness  my  torture  ;  but  I 
could  not  bear  to  have  you  leave  me.  There  is  something  I  want 
to  say  while  I  have  strength  left.     How  is  Electra  ?" 

'•  Partially  delirious  still,  but  the  doctor  thinks  she  will  recover. 
What  shall  I  tell  her  for  you  ?" 

"  That  I  loved  and  remembered  her  in  my  dying  hour.  Kiss 
her  for  me,  and  tell  her  I  fell  where  the  dead  lay  thickest,  in  a 
desperate  charge  on  the  enemy's  batteries — that  none  can  claim 
a  nobler,  prouder  death  than  mine — that  the  name  of  Aubrey  is 
once  more  glorified — baptized  with  my  blood  upon  the  battle- 
field. Irene,  she  is  alone  in  the  world  ;  watch  over  her  and  love 
her,  for  my  sake.     Doctor,  give  me  some  water." 

As  the  hemorrhage  increased  despite  their  efforts  to  staunch 
it,  he  became  rapidly  weaker,  and  soon  after,  with  one  hand 
locked  in  Irene's,  he  fell  asleep. 

She  sat  motionless,  supporting  his  head,  uttering  no  sound, 
keeping  her  eyes  fixed  on  his  upturned  countenance.  Dr.  Arnold 
went  noiselessly  in  and  out,  on  various  errands  of  mercy  ;  occa- 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  457 

sionally  anxions,  weather-beaten  soldiers  softly  lifted  the  curtain 
of  the  tent,  gazed  sadlj,  fondly,  on  the  prostrate  figure  of  the  be- 
loved commander,  and  turned  away  silently,  with  tears  trickling 
down  their  bronzed  faces.  Slowly  the  night  waned,  and  tho 
shrill  tones  of  reveille  told  that  another  day  had  risen  before  tho 
murky  sky  brightened.  Hundreds,  who  had  sprung  up  at  that 
call  twenty-four  hours  ago,  now  lay  stiffening  in  their  gore,  sleep- 
ing their  last  sleep,  where  neither  the  sound  of  fife  and  drum,  nor 
the  battle-cry  of  comrades,  would  ever  rouse  them  from  their 
final  rest  before  Malvern  Hill — over  which  winds  wailed  a  re- 
quiem, and  trailing,  dripping  clouds  settled  like  a  pall. 

The  bustle  and  stir  of  camp  increased  as  preparations  were 
made  to  follow  the  foe,  who  had  again  taken  up  the  line  of  re- 
treat ;  but  within  the  tent  unbroken  silence  reigned.  It  was  ai> 
parent  that  Russell  was  sinking  fast,  and  at  eight  o'clock  be 
awoke,  looked  uneasil}  around  him,  and  said,  feebly  : 

"  What  is  going  on  in  front  ?" 

"  McClellan  has  evacuated  Malvern  Hill,  and  is  in  full  retreat 
toward  his  gunboats,"  answered  the  doctor. 

"  Then  there  will  be  no  more  fighting.  My  shattered  regi- 
ment will  rest  for  a  season.  Poor  fellows  I  they  did  their  duty 
nobly  yesterday.  Tell  my  men  for  me  that  I  am  inexpressibly 
proud  of  their  bravery  and  their  daring,  and  that  though  my 
heart  clings  fondly  to  my  gallant  regiment,  I  glory  in  the  death  I 
die — knowing  that  my  soldiers  will  avenge  me.  Give  my  love  to 
one  and  all,  and  tell  them,  when  they  next  go  into  battle,  to  re- 
member him  who  led  their  last  charge.  I  should  like  to  have 
seen  the  end  of  the  struggle — but  Thy  will,  oh,''God  1  not  mine." 

He  lifted  his  eyes  toward  Heaven,  and  for  some  moments  his 
lips  moved  inaudibly  in  prayer.  Gradually  a  tranquil  expression 
settled  on  his  features,  and  as  his  eyes  closed  again  he  murmured, 
faintly  : 

*'  Irene— darling — raise  me  a  little." 

They  lifted  him,  and  rested  his  head  against  her  shoulder. 

"  Irene  !" 

"  I  am  here,  Russell ;  my  arms  are  around  you." 

She  laid  her  cheek  on  his,  and  listened  to  catch  the  words  ; 


458  macaria;  ob, 

but  none  came.  The  lips  parted  once,  and  a  soft,  fluttering 
breath  swept  across  them.  Dr.  Arnold  put  his  hand  over  the 
heart — no  pulsation  greeted  him  ;  and,  turning  away,  the  old 
man  covered  his  face  with  his  handkerchief. 

"  Russell,  speak  to  me  once  more." 

There  was  no  sound — no  motion.  She  knew  that  the  soldier's 
spirit  had  soared  to  the  shores  of  Everlasting  Peace,  and  that 
not  until  she  joined  him  there  would  the  loved  tones  again  make 
music  in  her  heart.  She  tightened  her  arms  around  the  still 
form,  and  nestled  her  cheek  closer  to  his,  now  growing  cold. 
No  burst  of  grief  escaped  her,  to  tell  of  agony  and  despair  : 

♦'  But  like  a  statue  solid  set, 
And  moulded  in  colossal  calm," 

she  sat,  mute  and  resigned,  at  the  foot  of  the  Red  Dripping  Al- 
tar of  Patriotism,  where  lay,  in  hallowed  Sacrifice,  her  noble, 
darling  Dead. 

In  the  morning  light  her  face  looked  rigid,  pallid  as  his,  and 
the  tearless  but  indescribably  mournful  eyes  w^ere  riveted  on  his 
placid,  handsome  features.  Eric  and  Harvey  Young  stood  in 
one  corner  of  the  tent,  wiping  away  tears  which  would  not  be 
restrained  ;  and  finally  Dr.  Arnold  stooped  and  said,  falteringly: 

"  My  dear  child,  come  with  me  now." 

She  did  not  seem  to  hear  him,  and  he  repeated  his  "words,  try- 
ing, at  the  same  time,  to  unwind  her  arms. 

She  yielded,  and  with  her  own  hands  smoothed  out  and  cut  a 
lock  of  hair  that  waved  over  his  gleaming  forehead. 

Leaning  over  him,  she  kissed  the  icy  lips  ;  then  rose,  and, 
clasping  her  hands,  murmured  : 

"  Farewell,  my  own  brave  Russell  1" 

The  minister  approached,  and  stood  before  her.  She  lifted  her 
wan,  dry  face,  and,  as  she  put  out  her  arms  to  him,  a  wintry 
smile  flitted  over  the  mouth  that  had  seemed  frozen. 

"  Harvey  1  Harvey  !  he  was  my  all !  He  was  the  idol  of  my 
childhood  !  and  girlhood  !  and  womanhood  !     Oh  !  pray  for  me 

• — that  I  may  be  patient  and  strong  in  my  great  desolation." 

****** 

Elcctra's  speedy  convalescence  repaid  the  care  bestowed  upon 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  459 

her  ;  and  one  afternoon,  ten  days  after  quiet  had  aj^ain  settled 
around  the  Coni't'derute  capital,  she  insisted  on  being  allowed  to 
sit  up  later  than  usual,  protesting  that  she  would  no  longer  be 
regarded  as  an  invalid. 

"  Irene,  stand  in  the  light  where  I  can  see  you  fully.  How 
worn  and  weary  you  look  1  I  suspect  I  am  regaining  my  health 
at  the  expense  of  yours." 

"  No  ;  I  am  as  well  in  body  as  I  could  desire  ;  but,  no  doubt, 
my  anxiety  has  left  its  traces  on  my  countenance." 

She  leaned  over  Electra's  chair,  and  stroked  back  the  artist's 
shining  hair. 

"  I  wish  you  would  let  me  see  the  papers.  My  eyes  are  strong 
enough  now,  and  I  want  to  know  exactly  what  has  taken  place 
everywhere  during  my  sickness.  It  seems  to  me  impossible  that 
General  Lee's  army  can  face  McCIellan's  much  longer  wilhout 
bringing  on  a  battle,  and  I  am  so  anxious  about  Russell.  If  he 
should  be  hurt,  of  course  I  must  go  to  him.  It  is  very  strange 
that  he  has  not  written.     Are  you  sure  no  letters  came  for  me  ?" 

"  There  are  no  letters,  I  am  sure  ;  but  I  have  a  message  for 
you.     I  have  seen  him  once  since  you  were  taken  sick." 

"  Ah  !  what  is  it  ?  He  heard  that  I  was  ill,  and  came  to  see 
me,  I  suppose.     When  was  he  here  ?" 

Irene  bent  down  and  kissed  her  companion  tremulously,  saying, 
slowly  : 

**  He  desired  me  to  kiss  you  for  him.  Electra,  I  have  not  told 
you  before  because  I  feared  the  effect  upon  you  in  your  weak 
state  ;  but  there  have  been  desperate  battles  around  Richmond 
during  your  illness,  and  the  Federals  have  been  defeated — driven 
back  to  James  river." 

"Was  Russell  wounded?  Yes — I  understand  it  all  now  1 
Where  is  he  ?     Oh  !  tell  me  that  I  may  go  to  him." 

She  sprang  up,  but  a  death-like  pallor  overspread  her  face  and 
she  tottered  to  the  open  window. 

Irene  follow^ed  the  thin  figure,  and,  putting  her  arms  about 
her,  made  her  lean  against  her. 

"  He  was  wounded  on  the  last  day,  and  I  went  to  see  him  ;  you 
were  then  delirious." 


460  Mla.cARiA;  or, 

"  Let  Die  go  at  once  !  I  will  not  disturb  liim  ;  I  will  control 
myself !     Only  let  me  see  him  to-day  !" 

"  Electra,  you  can  not  see  him.  He  has  gone  to  his  God  ; 
but  in  his  dying  hour  he  spoke  of  you  fondly,  sent  love  and — ." 

The  form  reeled,  drooped,  shivered,  and  fell  back  insensible 
in  Irene's  arms. 

So  heavy  was  the  swoon,  that  it  seemed  as  if  her  spirit  had 
fled  to  join  her  cousin's  in  endless  union  ;  but  at  length  conscious- 
ness returned,  and  with  it  came  the  woful  realization  of  her  loss. 
A  long,  low  wail  rose  and  fell  upon  the  air,  like  the  cry  from 
lips  of  feeble,  sufifering,  helpless  children,  and  her  head  sank  upon 
the  shoulder  of  the  sad-faced  nurse,  whose  grief  could  find  no  ex- 
pression in  sobs,  or  moans,  or  tears. 

"  Dead  !  dead  1  and  I  shall  see  his  dear  face  no  more  !  Oh  I 
wky  did  you  not  let  me  die,  too  ?  What  is  my  wretched  hfe 
worth  now  ?  One  grave  might  have  held  us  both  !  My  noble, 
peerless  Russell  I  the  light  of  my  solitary  life  !  Oh,  God  !  be 
merciful  !  take  me  with  my  idol  I     Take  me  now  I" 

Very  tenderly  and  caressingly  Irene  endeavored  to  soothe  her — 
detailed  the  circumstances  of  her  cousin's  death,  and  pointed  her 
despairing  soul  to  a  final  reunion. 

But  no  rift  appeared  in  the  artist's  black  sky  of  sorrow  ;  she 
lead  not  yet  learned  that,  in  drawing  near  *the  hand  that  holds 
the  rod,  the  blow  is  lightened  ;  and  she  bitterly  demanded  of  her 
Maker  to  be  released  from  the  burden  of  life, 

"  Electra,  hush  your  passionate  cries  1  crush  back  your  rebel- 
lious words.  Your  heart  knows  no  depth  of  agony  which  mine 
has  not  sounded  ;  and  yet,  in  this  season  of  anguish,  when 
Russell  is  taken  from  us  both,  I  look  upon  his  grave,  and  feel 
that, 

•*  ' I  am  strong 

Knowing  ye  are  not  lost  for  aye  among 

The  hills,  witli  last  year's  thrusli.     God  keeps  a  niche 

In  Heaven  to  hold  our  idols  :  and  albeit 

He  brake  them  to  our  faces,  and  denied 

That  our  close  kisses  should  impair  their  white, 

I  know  we  shall  behold  them  raised,  complete, 

The  dust  swept  from  their  beauty — glorified 

Kew  Memnons  singing  in  the  great  God-light !'  " 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  461 


CIIArTER    XXXYI. 


The  sunlight  of  a  warm  spring  day  flashed  through  the  open 
window,  and  made  golden  arabesque  tracery  on  the  walls,  and 
portraits  of  the  parlor  at  Huntingdon  Hill.  The  costly  crimson 
damask  curtains  had  long  since  been  cut  into  shirts  for  the  soldiers, 
and  transported  to  the  Army  of  Tennessee,  and  air  and  sunshine 
entered  unimpeded.  Electra  sat  before  her  canvas  in  this  room, 
absorbed  in  the  design  which  now  engaged  every  thought.  The 
witchery  of  her  profession  had  woven  its  spell  about  her,  banishing 
for  a  time  the  spectral  Past. 

The  extension  of  the  Conscription  statute  had,  several  months 
before,  deprived  Irene  of  a  valued  and  trusty  overseer  ;  and  to 
satisfy  herself  concerning  the  character  of  his  successor,  and  the 
condition  of  affairs  at  home,  she  and  her  uncle  had  returned  to 
W ,  bringing  Electra  with  them. 

Irene  stood  on  the  colonnade,  leaning  over  the  back  of  Eric 
Mitchell's  arm-chair,  dropping  crumbs  for  the  pigeons  that  cooed 
and  scrambled  at  her  feet,  and  looking  dreamily  down  the  avenue 
at  the  band  of  orphans  who  had  just  paid  her  a  visit,  and  were 
returning  to  the  asylum  convoyed  by  the  matron. 

"  What  contented-looking,  merry  little  children  those  are,"  said 
her  uncle,  watching  the  small  figures  diminish  as  they  threaded 
the  avenue. 

"  Yes  ;  they  are  as  happy  as  orphans  possibly  can  be.  I  love 
to  look  into  their  smiling,  rosy  faces,  and  feel  their  dimpled  hands 
steal  timidly  in  mine.  But,  uncle.  Dr.  Arnold  has  finished  his  nap, 
comfortably  at  the  table,  where  the  doctor  was  examining  a  mass 
and  is  waiting  for  you." 

She  gave  him  her  arm  to  the  library-door,  saw  him  seated 
of  papers,  then  joined  Electra  in  the  parlor. 

**  What  progress  are  you  making,  Electra  ?" 

"  Very  httle.  I  can't  work  well  to-day.  Ruskin  says  that 
no  artist  has  fully  grasped  or  matured  his  subject  who  can  quit 
ene  portion  of  it  any  moment,  and  proceed  to  the  completion  of 


462  MACAEIA  ;    OR, 

some  other  part.  Doiil^tless  he  is  correct ;  but  I  am  so  liaunted 
by  these  blue  eyes  that  I  can  paint  nothiug  else  this  afternoon. 
Do  you  recognize  them  ?  Yours,  Irene.  Forgive  me  ;  but  I  can 
find  no  others,  in  imagination  or  in  life,  that  so  fully  express 
serenity.  My  work  has  taken  marvellous  hold  upon  me  ;  sleep- 
ing or  waking,  it  follows,  possesses  me.  I  shall  not  hurry  my- 
self ;  I  intend  that  the  execution  shall  be  equal  to  my  ideal — 
and  that  ideal  entirely  worthy  of  the  theme.  I  want  to  lay  my 
*  Modern  Macaria/  as  the  first  offering  of  Southern  art,  upon 
my  country's  altar,  as  a  nucleus  around  which  nobler  and  grander 
pictures,  from  the  hands  of  my  countrymen  and  women,  shall 
cluster.  In  sunny  climes  like  ours,  my  glorious  Art  had  its  birth, 
its  novitiate,  its  apotheosis  ;  and  who  dare  say  that  future  ages 
shall  not  find  Art  students  from  all  nations  pressing,  like  pilgrims 
to  the  Perfected  School  of  the  Southern  States  ?  Ancient  re- 
publics offered  premiums,  and  saw  the  acme  of  the  arts  ;  why 
not  our  Confederate  republic,  when  days  of  national  prosperity 
dawn  upon  us  ?  If  the  legislature  of  each  state  would  annually 
purchase,  for  the  embellishment  of  the  galleries  and  grounds  of 
its  capital,  the  best  picture  or  statue  produced  within  its  borders 
during  the  twelvemonths,  a  generous  emulation  would  be  en- 
couraged. Our  marble-hearted  land  will  furnish  materials,  which 
Southern  genius  can  mould  into  monuments  of  imperishable 
beauty.  This  war  furnishes  instances  of  heroism  before  which  all 
other  records  pale,  and  our  Poets,  Sculptors,  and  Painters  have 
otily  to  look  around  them  for  subjects  which  Greek  or  Italian 
Art  would  glorify  and  immortalize. 

"  '  I  do  dfetrust  the  poet  who  discerns 
No  character  or  glory  in  his  times, 
And  truadlea  back  his  soul  five  hundred  years.' 

Our  resources  are  inexhaustible,  our  capabilities  as  a  people  un- 
limited, and  we  require  only  the  fostering  inflaencos  which  Cos- 
mo De  Medici  and  Xicolo  exerted  in  Florence,  to  call  into  action 
energies  and  latent  talents  of  which  we  are,  as  yet,  scarcely  con- 
scious. Such  patrons  of  Art  and  Literature  I  hope  to  find  in 
the  planters  of  the  Confederacy.  They  have  wealth,  leisure,  and 
every  requisite  adjunct,  and  upon  them,  as  a  class,  must  devolve 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  463 

tilis  labor-of-love — the  accomplishment  of  an  American  Renais- 
sance— the  development  of  the  slumbering  genius  of  our  land. 
Burke  has  remarked  :  '  Nobihty  is  a  graceful  ornament  to  the 
civil  order  ;  it  is  the  Corinthian  capital  of  polished  society/ 
Certainly,  Southern  planters  possess  all  the  elements  of  this 
highest  order  of  social  architecture,  and  upon  their  correct  ap- 
preciation of  the  grave  responsibility  attending  their  wealth  and 
influence  depends  in  great  degree,  our  emancipation  from  the 
gross  utilitarianism  which  has  hitherto  characterized  us,  and  our 
progress  in  refinement  and  aesthetic  culture.  As  we  are  distinct, 
socially  and  politically,  from  other  nations,  so  let  us  be,  intellect- 
ually and  artistically.  The  world  has  turned  its  back  upon  us 
in  our  grapple  with  tyranny  ;  and,  in  the  hour  of  our  triumph, 
let  us  not  forget  that,  as  we  won  Independence  without  aid  or 
sympathy,  so  we  can  maintain  it  in  all  departments." 

"  Electra,  in  order  to  effect  this  '  consummation  devoutly  to 
be  wished,'  it  is  necessary  that  the  primary  branches  of  Art  should 
be  popularized,  and  thrown  open  to  the  masses.  Mill  contends, 
in  his  Political  Economy,  that  the  remuneration  of  the  peculiar 
employments  of  women  is  always  far  below  that  of  employments 
of  equal  skill  carried  on  by  men,  and  he  finds  an  explanation  in 
the  fact  that  they  are  overstocked.  Hence,  in  improving  the 
condition  of  women,  it  is  advisable  to  give  them  the  readiest 
access  to  independent  industrial  pursuits,  and  extend  the  circle  of 
their  appropriate  occupations.  Our  Revolution  has  beggared 
thousands,  and  deprived  many  of  their  natural  providers  ;  num- 
bers of  women  in  the  Confederacy  will  be  thrown  entirely  on 
their  own  resources  for  maintenance.  All  can  not  be  mantuc.- 
makers,  milliners  or  school-teachers  ;  and  in  order  to  open  for 
them  new  avenues  of  support,  I  have  determined  to  establish  in 

W ,  a   School   of  Design   for  Women — similar  in  plan, 

though  more  extensive,  than  that  founded  some  years  ago  by 
Mrs.  Peter  of  Philadelphia.  The  upper  portion  of  the  building 
will  be  arranged  for  drawing  classes,  wood-engraving,  and  the 
various  branches  of  Design  ;  and  the  lower,  corresponding  in 
size  and  general  appearance,  I  intend  for  a  circulating  library  for 
our  county.     Over  that  School  of  Design  I  want  you  to  preside  ; 


4GJ:  MACARIA  ;    OR, 

yonr  talents,  your  edacation,  your  devotion  to  your  Art  lit  you 
peculiarly  for  the  position.  The  salary  shall  be  such  as  to  com- 
pensate you  for  your  services  ;  and,  when  calmer  days  dawn 
upon  us,  we  may  be  able  to  secure  some  very  valuable  lecturers 
among  our  gentlemen-artists.  I  have  a  large  lot  on  the  corner 
of  Pine  street  and  Huntingdon  avenue,  opposite  the  court-house, 
which  will  be  a  fine  location  for  it,  and  I  wish  to  appropriate  it 
to  this  purpose.  While  you  are  adorning  the  interior  of  the 
buildmg,  the  walls  of  which  are  to  contain  frescoes  of  some  of 
the  most  impressive  scenes  of  our  Revolution,  I  will  embellish  the 
grounds  in  front,  and  make  them  my  special  charge.  I  under- 
stand the  cultivation  of  flowers,  though  the  gift  of  painting 
them  is  denied  me.  Yesterday  I  sold  my  diamonds  for  a  much 
larger  amount  than  I  supposed  they  would  command,  and  this 
sum,  added  to  other  funds  now  at  my  disposal,  will  enable  me  to 
accomplish  the  scheme.  Dr.  Arnold  and  uncle  Eric  cordially 
approve  my  plan,  will  aid  me  very  liberally,  and  as  soon  as  tran- 
quillity is  restored  I  shall  succeed  in  erecting  the  building  with- 
out applying  to  any  one  else  for  assistance.  When  your  picture 
is  finished,  I  wish  you  to  make  me  a  copy  to  be  hung  up  in  our 
School  of  Design,  that  the  students  may  be  constantly  reminded 
of  the  debt  of  gratitude  we  owe  our  armies.  How  life-like 
your  figures  grow  ;  I  can  almost  see  the  quiver  of  that  wife's 

white  lips  and  hear  the  dismal  howling  of  the  dead  man's 
dog." 

The  canvas,  which  she  leaned  forward  to  inspect  more  closely, 
contained  an  allegorical  design  representing,  in  the  foreground, 
two  female  figures.  One  stern,  yet  noble-featured,  crowned  with 
stars — triumph  and  exultation  flashing  in  the  luminous  eyes  ;  In- 
dependence, crimson-mantled,  grasping  the  Confederate  Banner 
of  the  Cross,  whose  victorious  folds  streamed  above  a  captured 
battery,  where  a  Federal  flag  trailed  in  the  dust.  At  her  side 
stood  white-robed,  angelic  Peace,  with  one  hand  over  the  touch- 
hole  of  the  cannon  against  which  she  leaned,  and  the  otlier  ex- 
tended in  benediction.  Vividly  the  faces  contrasted — one  all 
athrob  with,  national  pride,  beaming  with  brilliant  destiny  ;  the 
otlier  v.ondcrfully  serene  and  holy.     In  the  distance,  gleaming  in 


ALTARS    OF   SACRIFICE.  465 

the  evening  lii^lit  which  strcaniorl  from  the  "West,  tents  dotted  a 
hill-side  ;  and,  internie<hato  between  Peace  and  tlie  glittering 
tents,  stretched  a  torn,  stained  battle-field,  over  which  the  roar 
and  rush  of  conflict  had  just  swept,  leaving  mangled  heaps  of 
dead  in  attestation  of  its  fury.  Among  the  trampled,  bloody- 
shea  ves  of  wheat,  an  aged,  infirm  Niobe-mother  bent  in  tearless 
anguish,  pressing  her  hand  upon  the  pulseless  heart  of  a  hand- 
some boy  of  sixteen  summers,  whose  yellow  locks  were  dabbled 
from  his  death  wound.  A  few  steps  farther,  a  lovely  young 
"Wife,  kneeling  beside  the  stalwart,  rigid  form  of  her  Husband, 
whose  icy  fingers  still  clutched  his  broken  sword,  lifted  her  wo- 
ful,  ashen  face  to  Heaven  in  mute  despair,  while  the  fair-browed 
infant  on  the  ground  beside  her  dipped  its  little  snowy,  dimpled 
feet  in  a  pool  of  its  father^s  blood,  and,  with  tears  of  terror  still 
glistening  on  its  cheeks,  laughed  at  the  scarlet  coloring.  Just 
beyond  these  mourners,  a  girl  of  surpassing  beauty,  whose  black 
hair  floated  like  a  sable  banner  on  the  breeze,  clasped  her  round- 
ed arms  about  her  dead  patriot  Lover,  and  kept  her  sad  vigil  in 
voiceless  agony — with  all  of  Sparta's  stern  stoicism  in  her  blanch- 
ed, stony  countenance.  And,  last  of  the  stricken  groups,  a  faith- 
ful dog,  crouching  close  to  the  corpse  of  an  old  silver-haired  man, 
threw  back  his  head  and  howled  in  desolation.  Neither  blue 
shadows,  nor  wreathing,  rosy  mists,  nor  golden  haze  of  sunset 
glory,  softened  the  sacrificial  scene,  which  showed  its  grim  fea- 
tures strangely  solemn  in  the  weird,  fading,  crepuscular  light. 

**  How  many  months  do  you  suppose  it  will  require  to  com- 
plete it  ?"  asked  Irene,  whose  interest  in  the  picture  was  scarcely 
inferior  to  that  of  its  creator. 

"  If  I  work  steadily  upon  it,  I  can  soon  finish  it  ;  but  if  I  go 
with  you  to  a  Tennessee  hospital,  I  must,  of  course,  leave  it  here 
until  the  war  ends.  After  all,  Irene,  the  joy  of  success  does  not 
equal  that  which  attends  the  patient  working.  Perhaps  it  is  be- 
cause '  anticipation  is  the  purest  part  of  pleasure.'  I  love  my 
work  ;  no  man  or  woman  ever  loved  it  better  ;  and  yet  there  is 
a  painful  feeling  of  isolation,  of  loneliness,  which  steals  over  me 
sometimes,  and  chills  all  my  enthusiasm.     It  is  so  mournful  to 

20* 


466  MACARIA  ;   OR, 

know  that,  when  tlie  labor  is  ended,  and  a  new  chaplet  encirelea 
my  brow,  I  shall  have  no  one  but  you  to  whom  I  can  turn  for 
sympathy  in  ray  triumph.  If  I  feel  this  so  keenly  now,  how  shall 
I  bear  it  when  the  glow  of  life  fades  into  sober  twilight  shadows, 
and  age  creeps  upon  me  ? 

"  '  0  my  God !  my  God ! 
O  snpreme  Artist,  who  a3  sole  return 
For  all  the  cosmic  wonder  of  Thy  work, 
Demandest  of  us  just  a  word — a  name, 
'  My  father !'— thou  hast  knowledge— only  thou, 
How  dreary  'tis  for  women  to  sit  still 
On  winter  nights  by  solitary  fires, 
And  hear  the  nations  praising  them  far  off", 
Too  far  !'  " 

She  threw  down  her  brush  and  palette,  and,  turning  toward 
her  companion,  leaned  her  purplish  head  against  her. 

"  Eleetra,  it  is  very  true  that  single  women  have  trials  for 
which  a  thoughtless,  happy  world  has  little  sympathy.  But 
lonely  lives  are  not  necessarily  joyless  ;  they  should  be,  of  all 
others,  most  useful.  The  head  of  a  household,  a  wife  and  mother, 
is  occupied  with  family  car^s  and  affections — can  find  little  time 
for  considering  the  comfort,  or  contributing  to  tlie  enjoyment  of 
any  beyond  the  home-circle.  Doubtless  she  is  happier,  far  hap- 
pier, than  the  unmarried  woman  ;  but  to  the  last  belongs  the 
privilege  of  carrying  light  and  blessings  to  many  firesides — of  be- 
ing tlie  friend  and  helper  of  hundreds  ;  and  because  she  belongs 
exclusively  to  no  one,  her  heart  expands  to  all  her  suffering  fel- 
low-creatures. In  my  childhood  I  always  thought  of  Old  Maids 
with  a  sensation  of  contempt  and  repulsion  ;  now  I  regard  those 
among  them  who  preserve  their  natures  from  cynicism  and  que- 
rulousness,  and  prove  themselves  social  evangels  of  mercy,  as  an 
uncrowned  host  of  martyrs.  Eleetra,  remember  other  words  of 
the  same  vigorous,  gifted  woman  whom  you  so  often  quote  : 

"  '  And  since  we  needs  must  hunger — better,  for  man's  love, 
Thau  God's  truth !  better,  for  companion  sweet, 
Than  great  convictions  !  let  us  bear  our  weights, 
Preferring  dreary  hearths  to  desert  souls !' 


ALTARS   OF   SACRIFICE.  467 

**  Remember  that  the  woman  wlio  dares  to  live  alone,  and  b« 
sneered  at,  Is  braver,  and  nobler,  and  better  than  she  who  escapes 
both  in  a  loveless  marriage.  It  is  true  that  you  and  I  are  very 
lonely,  and  yet  our  future  holds  much  that  is  bright.  You  have 
the  profession  you  love  so  well,  and  our  new  School  of  Design, 
to  engage  your  thoughts  ;  and  I  a  thousand  claims  on  my  time 
and  attention.  I  have  uncle  Eric  to  take  care  of  and  to  love  ; 
and  Dr.  Arnold,  who  is  growing  quite  infirm,  has  promised  me 
that,  as  soon  as  he  can  be  spared  from  the  hospitals,  he  will 
make  his  home  with  us.  When  this  storm  of  war  has  spent  it- 
self, your  uncle's  family  will  return  from  Europe  and  reside  here 

with  you.     Harvey,  too,  will  come  to  W to  live — will 

probably  take  charge  of  Mr.  Campbell's  church — and  we  shall 
have  the  pleasure  and  benefit  of  his  constant  counsel.  If  I  could 
see  you  a  member  of  that  church  I  should  be  better  satisfied — 
and  you  would  be  happier." 

"  I  would  join  to-morrow,  if  thereby  I  could  acquire  your  sub- 
lime faith,  and  strength,  and  resignation.  Oh,  Irene  !  my  friend 
and  comforter  I  I  want  to  live  differently  in  future.  Once  I 
was  wedded  to  life  and  my  Art — preeminence  in  my  profession, 
fame,  was  all  that  I  cared  to  attain  ;  now  I  desire  to  spend  my 
remaining  years  so  that  I  may  meet  Russell  beyond  the  grave. 
His  death  broke  the  ties  that  bound  me  to  this  world  ;  I  live 
now  in  hope  of  reunion  in  God's  eternal  kingdom.  I  have  been 
selfish,  and  careless,  and  complaining  ;  but,  oh  I  I  want  to  do 
my  whole  duty  henceforth.  Irene,  my  calm,  sweet,  patient  guide, 
teach  me  to  be  more  like  you." 

"  Electra,  take  Christ  for  your  model,  instead  of  an  erring  hu- 
man being  like  yourself,  constantly  falling  short  of  her  own  duty. 
AVith  Harvey  to  direct  us,  we  ought  to  accomplish  a  world  of 
good,  here  in  sight  of  Russell's  grave.  Cheer  up  !  God's  great 
vineyard  stretches  before  us,  calling  for  laborers.  Hand  in  hand, 
we  will  go  in  and  work  till  evening  shades  close  over  us  ;  then 
lift  up,  in  token  of  our  faithfulness,  rich,  ripe  clusters  of  purple 
fruitage.  You  and  I  have  much  to  do,  during  these  days  of 
gloom  and  national  trial — for  upon  the  purity,  the  devotion,  and 


468  macakia;  ok, 

the  patriotism  of  the  women  of  our  land,  not  less  than  upon  the 
heroism  of  our  armies,  depends  our  national  salvation.  To 
jealously  guard  our  homes  and  social  circles  from  the  inroads  of 
cormption,  to  keep  the  fires  of  patriotism  burning  upon  the  al- 
tars of  the  South,  to  sustain  and  encourage  those  who  are  wrest- 
ling along  the  border  for  our  birthright  of  freedom,  is  the  conse- 
crated work  to  which  we  are  called  ;  and  beyond  this  bloody 
baptism  open  vistas  of  life-long  usefulness,  when  the  reign  of 
wrong  and  tyranny  is  ended,  when  the  roar  of  battle,  the  blast 
of  bugle  and  beat  of  drum  is  hushed  among  our  hills,  and  Peace  ! 
blessed  Peace  1  again  makes  her  abode  in  our  smiling,  flowery 
valleys.  Hasten  the  hour,  oh  I  my  God  I  when  her  white  wings 
shall  hover  over  us  once  more  !" 

The  eyes  of  the  artist  went  back  to  the  stainless  robes  and 
seraphic  face  of  her  pictured  Peace  in  the  loved  "  Modern  Ma- 
caria,"  and,  as  she  resumed  her  work,  her  brow  cleared,  the  coun- 
tenance kindled  as  in  days  of  yore,  bitter  memories  hushed  their 
moans  and  fell  asleep  at  the  wizard  touch  of  her  profession,  and 
the  stormy,  stricken  soul  found  balm  and  rest  in  Heaven-appoint- 
ed Labor. 

Standing  at  the  back  of  Electra's  chair,  with  one  hand  resting 
on  her  shoulder,  Irene  raised  her  holy  violet  eyes,  and  looked 
through  the  window  toward  the  cemetery,  where  glittered  a  tall 

marble  shaft  which  the  citizens  of  TV had  erected  over 

Ihe  last  quiet  resting-place  of  Russell  Aubrey.  Sands  of  Time 
ivere  drifting  stealthily  around  the  crumbling  idols  of  the  morning 
of  life,  levelling  and  tenderly  shrouding  the  Past,  but  sorrow  left 
its  softening  shadow  on  the  orphan's  countenance,  and  laid  its 
chastening  finger  about  the  lips  which  meekly  murmured  :  "  Thy 
will  be  done."  The  rays  of  the  setting  sun  gilded  her  mourning- 
dress,  gleamed  in  the  white  roses  that  breathed  their  perfume  in 
her  rippling  hair,  and  lingered  like  a  benediction  on  the  placid, 
pure  face  of  the  lonely  woman  who  had  survived  every  earthly 
hope  :  and  who,  calmly  front iiii,^  her  Altars  of  Sacrifice,  here 
dedicated  herself  u  allovred  work  of  promoting  the 


ALTAKS   OF    SACRIFICE.  4G9 

happiness  and  gladdening  the  paths  of  all  who  journeyed  with  her 
dowu  the  chequered  aisles  of  Time. 

"  Rise,  woman,  rise ! 
To  the  peculiar  and  best  altitudes 
Of  doing  good  and  of  enduring  ill, 
Of  comforting  for  ill,  and  teaching  good, 
And  reconciling  all  that  ill  and  good 
Unto  the  patience  of  a  constant  hope. 
.    .    .    .    Henceforward,  rise,  aspire, 
To  all  the  calms,  and  magnanimities. 
The  lofty  uses  and  the  noble  ends. 
The  sanctified  devotion  and  full  work, 
To  which  thou  art  elect  for  evermore  !" 


THE   END. 


i 


RARE  BOOK 
COLLECTION 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT 

CHAPEL  HILL 

Wilmer 
1165 


